The World We Live In
by eventualprocrastination
Summary: Georgie Brant is a survivor of the outbreak who has suffered her fair share of loss, but to an utterly heartbreaking degree. She tries not to let it get the better of her, because she lost someone that might still be alive, out there in the world and she won't give up on looking for them. In joining Rick's group, she might gain more than just hope. [Rick/OC]
1. On The Road

"_I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death...I think...peace and tranquility will return again." _– Anne Frank

* * *

The sun wasn't as hot as it had been in previous days. It was only slightly overcast thanks to much needed cloud coverage, which was a small blessing, all things considered. The only sound for miles was the wind humming through the trees on either side of the deserted road, rustling branches and their leaves. Even though that sound was so incredibly faint, it was silent enough to pick up on it without straining one's ears to listen. On the dry, cracked pavement of the road, dead leaves from the autumn before remained; orange, scattered and brittle. There was only one other sound and that came from the shuffling of feet, dragging tirelessly along that empty road, heading in no particular direction.

A bead of sweat appeared upon Georgie Brant's forehead and rolled down her left temple, down her cheek and then dripped off onto her shoulder. The old, tired elastic hair tie that had been keeping her long and unruly ginger locks bound had taken its last breath, so to speak, and snapped about a mile back. Her hair fell down her back and over her shoulders, which only resulted in her feeling even more warm and sweaty than she already was.

She looked down at her bare arms, covered in a sheen of dirt, dried blood, and salty perspiration, and couldn't help but smirk at how naturally tanned she found her skin to be, considering how easily her normally fair skinned used to burn after a couple of hours in sunlight. That was all pre-outbreak, of course, when family vacations to Disney World or beaches on the eastern seaboard were a luxury; a luxury that now felt like a forgotten dream or a story of something that had happened to someone else once upon a time.

Technically, it _had_ happened to someone else.

Those things happened to the woman she used to be: the wife, the mother, the sister, the daughter.

She was none of those things anymore. Not really.

Now, she was just a survivor, a fighter, a killer…

…Alone.

She started this journey into this fallen world alone and, for the last four and a half days, five by nightfall, she was once again in the same place. Amidst her fatigue, the hunger, the dehydration and the aching in her feet and legs from so much walking, she seemed able to find some amusement in recalling memories to keep herself entertained. "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day seemed to pop into her head, which led to her singing it quietly in barely a whisper as not to call attention to herself by any ramblers that might be lurking mindlessly in the woods on either side of the road. The lyrics fit well in this moment. It was oddly comforting, in some strange way.

"I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known. Don't know where it goes, but it's home to me and I walk alone…" she hummed the music part, and then chuckled, maybe from possible delirium setting in, at how the lyrics really did seem like they were written about her, as if somehow the band had been able to see into the future and know what was in store for her.

She had no watch anymore to tell her what time it was, but she knew it was close to late afternoon or early evening, judging by the arch of the sun in the sky, which peeked out from behind the clouds every so often. She didn't have much of anything anymore, truth be told; but who, that had survived the outbreak, did? The clothes on her back weren't even hers. She found them in an abandoned house in an abandoned cul-de-sac almost a month ago. They had been clean and they fit. That was all that mattered. Her boots she took from someone she had previously traveled with but had died at the hands of a rambler. She weren't using them anymore. There was no point in letting them go to waste. The gun tucked into back pocket of her pants only contained three bullets and that, too, she took from someone she had been traveling with that had died.

It was recent, in fact; four and a half days ago to be precise.

The poor soul had emptied two shots into a rambler before more descended on him, and ripped him apart, causing him to use what strength and sense he had left in him to put a third bullet in his own head so he wouldn't feel any more pain or reanimate as a rambler.

Georgie swiped the gun and was hoarding those bullets until absolutely necessary.

That was what her trusty hunting knife was for.

It was one of the few items she had brought with her on her first trek alone into the world, when she still had her truck, food supplies, bottles of water, clean clothes and more weapons and ammo. Of course, then the gas had run out, and she syphoned as much as she could to keep going, but even then there wasn't much more she could do.

She had been spared the chaos of Atlanta by a family of four who were driving away from that direction, headed west toward Birmingham. The husband, a Hispanic man by the name of Morales, had cut her off to stop her. He had got out of his car and Georgie had removed her right hand from the steering wheel to grip the handgun she had laying on the seat beside her, just in case. He held his hands up, sensing her guardedness, to show he meant no harm. He had walked up to her window and told her that if she was headed to Atlanta, it was a lost cause. It was not the safe zone everyone was promised. It was overrun by the dead. He and his family had just left a caravan of people who were risking a trip into the city to seek out possible help and answers at the CDC but his family wanted to seek out family in Birmingham. Morales told her it was her call, whichever decision she wanted to make. He even offered that she could tag along with them; strength in numbers and whatnot.

She thanked him for the warning and the information he could afford her. But she had someone who might be looking for her and she had left them a note saying she was going to Atlanta. Even if she didn't go into the city, she needed to stay near it, just in case.

They shook hands, wished each other luck and continued on their separate ways.

So much more had happened since then but none of it would compare to that one moment in her life, a day prior to meeting Morales, before she got on the road to Atlanta. It was the defining moment that determined who she had become now. It was nothing she wished on anyone, good or evil. It was not something anyone should ever have to witness and experience in their lifetime and she would never be able to get the images out of her head until the day she died. And she hoped that when the time came, if she couldn't do it herself, for whatever reason, that anyone who was with her would put a bullet or knife in her head so she could die with dignity instead of reanimating into a sad, disgusting, rotting shell of who she once was.

The clouds got a tad thicker overhead once again and it was yet another small blessing. The pulsing heat let up somewhat every time the sun disappeared. Even if it was just thirty seconds, it helped.

Out of the silence around her, there came a familiar hum of an engine and gravel from the road being shot out from underneath tires in multiple directions. It was approaching at a quickening pace, from behind Georgie. She turned her head slightly to see a tan, Ford Taurus Wagon with a cargo box on the roof draw nearer to her. She figured it was built in the 90s, but she wasn't sure on what specific year. Her father and brother used to know exact years, makes and models of practically any vehicle ever made. They had been the Rain Man of the automotive variety.

She stopped walking and narrowed her eyes at the car that came driving past her on her right. She was able to catch a glimpse inside at the driver's seat long enough to tell it was either an effeminate man or a petite woman with a very short haircut.

Georgie should've waved and signaled down the driver. Safety in numbers was the way to go these days, but not every person was a good person. Not only did she have to fear the dead, but the living weren't always that great either. Sure, she'd traveled and lived with some people, off and on, over the better part of the last fifteen months, but they hadn't all been a bed of roses. Sometimes she wished she could just go back to those two months after the outbreak began, before she went out onto the road alone, when she was still holed up in the comforts of her own home with her family, albeit dwindling.

Before her thoughts could get any further away from her, she noticed the car had slowed down and then come to a complete stop about a hundred yards up the road from her. Georgie strained her tired green eyes to see that the driver of the car was craning their own head slightly to glimpse Georgie in the rearview mirror. The car sat idle for probably about only thirty seconds or a bit more before the break lights came on as the car shifted out of park and then slowly began to back up. The closer it got to Georgie, the more she inched away toward the opposite side of the road.

Placing her right hand behind her back, she let her fingers wrap around the grip of her handgun in her pocket. Her hunting knife, which was secured in its leather sheath which was hooked to her belt, just wasn't practical in case she needed to defend herself against this driver. She would have to get close to use the knife and who knew what the driver was packing, weapons-wise, in that car.

Georgie eyed the driver – it was a woman, with mousy features and short, greyish hair – and gave her a nod of greeting.

"I thought you were a walker at first. That's why I kept on driving," the woman spoke, almost apologetic. "The way you're walking, dragging your feet; from behind you looked like you might be a walker."

"Well, I'm clearly not."

The woman nodded in agreement. "How long have you been on foot?"

"Almost five days."

"By yourself?"

"Just me and my shadow."

The woman looked forward, resting her left elbow on the front beltline molding of the opened, driver's side window. After a moment, she looked back at Georgie; squinting from the waning sunlight overhead. "It's gonna be dark in a few hours," she commented. "You have shelter?"

"If you count bushes as shelter, then yeah."

The woman frowned and then looked more fully upon Georgie, sizing her up. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Walkers? You mean the dead?" Off the woman's nod, Georgie replied with, "Too many to count or remember."

The woman nodded, accepting this answer. "How many _people_ have you killed?" the woman asked.

Georgie paused, thinking. "More than I wish I had to."

"Why?"

"Most were mercy kills. Only one was to protect myself."

The woman nodded yet again. It was almost beginning to annoy Georgie. The woman moved her arm inside of the car and gestured to the passenger seat. "Hop in."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she replied. "You shouldn't be alone out here."

This time Georgie was the one who nodded. "Thank you."

Still cautious, despite the kindness shown to her, Georgie took her time walking around the front of the car and then pulling open the passenger door. With an aching sigh she bent down to slide into the seat and it suddenly felt as if she was sitting on a cloud. After walking for so long and barely sleeping, if at all, getting to rest like this was like heaven to her.

Georgie shut the door and looked over at the woman. "I'm Georgie."

"Carol," was the response.

Without another word, Carol switched the gears from park to drive and put her foot on the accelerator; destination, unknown.


	2. What Has To Be Done

"_I am prepared for the worst, but hope for the best."_ – Benjamin Disraeli

* * *

It was silent inside the car.

Carol had both hands on the wheel and kept her eyes forward on the road while Georgie watched the trees pass by in a blur of different shades of green. For a few moments Georgie was almost able to forget where she was; that she was living in a post-apocalyptic world. She found herself nearly lifting her hand to turn on the radio for some music before snapping out of it and remembering there were no radio broadcasts anymore. Oh, how she missed music; how she missed messing around in her garage workshop with the volume on her radio up at full blast so she could hear the music playing over the sound of a circular saw cutting into pieces of scrap metal. Who would've thought silence was truly more deafening than actual sound?

After only twenty or thirty minutes into her road trip with Carol, Georgie turned to the older woman. "Where are you headed?"

"Don't know."

Georgie looked forward at the road and smirked.

"Where were _you_ headed?" Carol asked.

Out the corner of her eye, Georgie could tell Carol had glanced briefly over at her when she spoke. "Not sure," she replied. "Where are you coming from?"

"Are we talking spiritually or physically?"

Georgie looked back at Carol and saw a faint smirk on her lips. "Recently," she clarified. "It doesn't matter where we came from before all this. I know why I was alone on this road before you showed up, but why are you alone? How long have you been alone?"

"I was with people, good people, but I did something which was terrible, though I'm not ashamed in having done it. I did it to protect the others. At least I had hoped it was." Carol shrugged. "I meant well." She fell silent again for a few moments and Georgie didn't say anything to contribute to the silence for the sake of filler. Then, "It was just time for me to move on, I suppose."

"When was this? I mean, when did you leave your people?"

Carol looked at Georgie and appeared almost sheepish. "An hour ago?"

Georgie was looking back while Carol kept looking back and forth between her and the road. "An hour? You only picked me up off the road about a _half_ hour ago," she remarked, incredulously, but with a laugh. She knew the time frame simply because of the small luxury that the car's digital clock still worked. "So, you left a half hour before you saw me?"

Carol nodded. "Pretty much," she muttered, just as they passed two ramblers on the road; one of whom Carol clipped with the passenger side headlight.

Georgie turned briefly to look back at said rambler who had subsequently lost their footing and fallen back down the short incline on the side of the road. Turning back forward, she couldn't help but smirk in regard to what Carol had said. "An hour," she repeated. "And you even have a car and supplies and weapons. I can't remember the last time I had this much with me."

Her own smirk fading, Carol tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "The decision for me to leave wasn't mine, but I didn't fight it."

Both fell silent again, continuing on that way for another five or so minutes. The scenery around them soon changed. Tree coverage became sparse as homes and a variety of business began to appear. They were nearing upon an abandoned town, a name they had not seen a sign for, not that it mattered anyway. As Carol slowed the speed of the car down to a crawl, the two women began to inspect the area around them. There didn't seem to be any ramblers around, at least not that Georgie had seen, so that was a good thing.

"We looking for shelter for the night, yeah?" she asked.

"Yep," Carol replied.

Georgie pointed to a brick building on a corner. "It's a law office. I doubt any people or ramblers would be in there."

"Ramblers?" Carol asked, as she brought the car to a stop. She peered at the front of the edifice and then at Georgie. "You call them ramblers?" It was more a question of amusement.

"Yeah, because they ramble on." Georgie shrugged. "I've been with people that called them different things; deadheads, biters, rotters. You call them walkers, right?"

"Because they walk around," Carol quipped.

They both looked back at the building and Georgie gestured behind her with her thumb. "I noticed a small road or back alley behind the building. We can leave the car back there for the night in case any people come along and think to take it. They might not see it if they're just passing through. And, no doubt, a corner lot like this will have at least one more exit, possibly in the back with access to the alley. If we need to leave in a hurry, if someone comes in the front, we'll have the back which will be closer to the car."

"You had to do this before?"

Georgie shrugged. "Who hasn't these days?" she remarked. "If you don't have contingency plans, you might as well as throw your hands up and give up now."

Carol smiled politely. "Let's just leave the car here for now and check the place out first. If it really is okay inside, I'll come back out and park the car in the rear."

"Sounds like a plan," Georgie nodded.

Quietly, both women opened their doors and got out of the car, gripping their respective weapons as they neared the law office's front entrance. Georgie left her handgun holstered in her back pocket and instead took her knife out while Carol had a small revolver. Carol opened the door rather casually with her revolver aimed down at her side. Her approach inside was more guarded as she looked around for signs of _un_life. Georgie slipped in quietly behind her, gripping the handle of her knife a lot tighter in her hand, prepared to use it at any moment should the occasion arise. Her eyes, too, scanned the interior as Carol lifted up a tin pen holder on the desk at their left and gave it a shake.

Pausing a few moments, both women waited to see if there was a response in the form of walkers coming out of the woodwork, so to speak. However, there was nothing. After going around the office, into every room, upstairs and down, they determined the coast was clear and Carol went back outside to pull the car around to the alley out back. It took less than five minutes and Carol was back inside and pushing the desk that had been at their left upon entering and moved it in front of the door as a barricade.

Carol caught Georgie's glance and muttered, "Better safe than sorry."

Georgie nodded and went inside the main office area where there was a blue sofa surrounded by cardboard boxes filled with forgotten paperwork and forms that were most likely very important before the outbreak. Taking a phonebook, she began to rip out the pages and then bring them with her, along with some tape she found to cover the window panes with them so no one, alive or dead, could see inside the downstairs windows. Carol followed suit and took some of the pages to take care of the windows one room over.

They worked in silence, merely stealing glances to see what the other was doing and then taking hints as to how to better the tasks at hand or contribute to doing something more to secure their shelter. They didn't know how long they would hole themselves up in the law office but they were going to take the steps to make it safe and comfortable. The fact that there was a sofa was a bonus. They would have something comfortable to sleep on. However, there was just the one, so they agreed they would switch on and off, taking turns; while one slept, the other would keep guard.

As the evening progressed, Carol had brought a recycling box into the room with the sofa and dumped out its contents which seemed to be primarily empty water bottles. There was a small, two piece bathroom with a toilet and sink; the latter they attempted to turn on to fill the bottles with water. However, no water came out. It must've been shut off for this area which, obviously, sucked. There was, fortunately, clean water in the toilet bowl, but they weren't too desperate to use that for drinking water just yet. Carol still had some supplies in the car, stealing out the back door into the alley to bring one water bottle and one canned good for each of them back inside.

Carol held both cans up. "You've gone the longest without eating," she remarked. "You pick which one you want."

The choices were green beans or carrots, neither ever having been her favorite foods, but in times like these, they were practically top cuisine to her. "The beans," she decided, taking the can. "Thanks."

Using her hunting knife, Georgie punctured a hole into the top of the can and cut into the lid enough to pry it back so that she could stick her hand in without cutting herself on the sharp, thin edge. She then did the same for Carol before passing it back to her.

Just as they had when they made the office safe and secure, the women ate in silence. It felt utterly amazing to Georgie to finally have actual food in her stomach again. It churned in delight as she practically inhaled the contents of the can. She barely tasted anything. All that mattered was the sustenance and quenching those extreme hunger pains. Carol gave Georgie her water bottle, so that Georgie now had two.

"I drank earlier today. You need it more."

Georgie was so grateful for this kindness, and yet amused by how Carol tried to pass if off as nonchalantly as possible, as if she really didn't care whether Georgie lived or died.

"Thank you, again, for all this," Georgie spoke once the food was gone and both water bottles had been emptied down her gullet. "You could've left me back on the road and you didn't. You've given me food and water. I don't know what it was you did back with your people and why they exiled you or whatever, but their loss is my gain."

"You really don't care what I did?" Carol asked, curiously, leaning back against the sofa with her legs folded, Indian-style.

Georgie shook her head. "Did you kill a child; a living one?"

"No," Carol replied.

"Then I really don't care." Georgie tilted her head back against the wall behind her. "You said you did what you did because you thought you were protecting your people. I can't find any fault in that, however way you may have gone about it."

"You're not even a bit curious what I did?"

Georgie shrugged. "Maybe a little, but I'm not going to pass judgement if you want to tell me. Hell, maybe it'll be therapeutic for you to tell me. Get it off your chest and put it behind you. The past is the past and all that."

Carol looked toward the doorway and pursed her lips in thought. Silence fell over them again, but only for a few moments. "My people and I, we've been staying at a prison not far from here. We took it, secured it, cleaned it up a bit and made it livable. We even started farming. There were pigs," she commented with a smirk on her lips. "Two of our people fell ill very suddenly, and we quarantined them. I needed to protect the others, to prevent the flu from spreading. It was a mercy kill. Early yesterday morning, while everyone slept, I killed them both," she clarified. "I stabbed them in the head and then dragged their bodies outside and burned them. I thought it would completely stop the flu from spreading since they were the only ones who had it. It turns out I was wrong. It was infectious and it spread anyway, but I did what I did and I stand by it. Karen and David, those were their names, they were going to die anyway. We didn't have the medicine. Their deaths were being dragged out."

"So, basically, you're Dr. Kevorkian," Georgie quipped. "If I am ever in the same situation as those two and you and I are still in each other's company, I give you my blessing to do the same to me. I don't want to become one of those things when my time comes. I want to die with some dignity."

"Only if you do the same for me, if we're still together and I die first."

Georgie leaned forward and offered Carol her hand. "Deal," she stated.

The older woman met her halfway and accepted her hand, shaking it. "Deal," Carol repeated.

* * *

Night had fallen and Georgie offered to take first watch. She walked around the downstairs for a few minutes, checking and rechecking that their exits and the windows were secure before heading upstairs where there was the view of the street out front and of the street on the side of the building. She hopped up onto one of the large window sills to sit and stared out the window at the street below. All was quiet, all was calm, and it was incredibly dark, with the exception of faint bit of light coming from the starry sky above. The moon barely offered any light either because it was waxing crescent, which meant it looked like a fingernail because it was going to be the first quarter moon in a few days.

It was quiet, it was calm, it was dark.

Georgie was confident that she and Carol were perfectly okay for the time being and decided a bit of sleep would be just as okay for herself, and it didn't take long to do so either. Her body was overtired anyway; not having slept a good night's sleep in probably a month.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been out, but the sound of footsteps on a creaky wooden floor stirred her awake. Her hand was on the handle of her knife and it was unsheathed in seconds as she held it out before her in the dark of the room in the direction of the doorway.

"It's just me," came Carol's voice before she stepped inside the room, rubbing her arms as she folded them across her chest. "I couldn't sleep."

Georgie ran a hand over her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before letting out a quiet chuckle as a thought popped into her head. "We'll sleep when we're dead."

Carol shrugged, joining Georgie at the window sill. "That's not even guaranteed anymore, unfortunately."

Both women glanced at each other as Georgie sheathed her knife. "That's what our pact downstairs was about earlier," she commented.

As they turned their focus out the window, Carol pointed in the direction across the street of the trees beyond the buildings. "The prison is in that direction," she informed. "My people are probably sleeping right now."

"Are they your people anymore?" Georgie wondered. "They made you leave."

"Our leader did," Carol clarified. "We had gone out on a supply run but I had a feeling there was more to it; why he asked me to go with him. He asked me yesterday evening if I was the one who killed Karen and David and I didn't deny it. I know he kept it to himself because no one came to me about it. I just wonder if they know now. When he returned to the prison without me, did he tell them then?"

"Couldn't you just go back, plead your case? You're not reckless, you're plenty useful in securing a place and you just seem like an all-around decent human being. These aren't the times for kicking good people to the curb," Georgie commented. She pulled one of her legs up and hugged her knee to her chest. "We're all gonna make mistakes. Ain't none of us lived in this kind of world before. We're all learning how to survive in it as we go. I mean, I could understand your group leader's decision if you had been spouting nonsense and threatening the lives of everyone else or if you killed someone because you just didn't like them or something. I assume there are children at that prison?"

"More than a few."

"That would be my first instinct," Georgie continued. "To protect them and keep them safe at all costs, before anyone or anything else. Just go back and promise you did what you did for the sake of their protection and safety."

Carol frowned. "Easier said than done," she voiced. "Karen was the girlfriend of a man named Tyreese in our group. They joined the prison relatively recent, leaving behind this fortified town called Woodbury that was ruled over by this overlord type. We brought many of those citizens back to the prison to stay with us and given them a home. Karen and Tyreese were part of those people and he loved her. When he found their bodies where I left them, he went mad with rage. I couldn't bring myself to admit then that I did it. Tyreese was so angry, he wanted blood vengeance, and I chickened out. I was content to keep what I did a secret as long as I could."

The pair fell quiet once more, both staring out the window in the direction of the prison; the silence in the air quickly enveloping them. It was almost unsettling.

"I still think you should go back to your people," Georgie insisted after a minute or two. "We need to hang on to the people we care about for as long as we can, while they're still around."

Silence again.

But in that silence, Georgie could feel Carol's eyes on her, casting sidelong glances.

"How many people have you lost?"

"Too many," Georgie replied without missing a beat.

"I don't mean just people you found and bonded with after the outbreak. Who did you lose from before all of this?"

"My parents, siblings and their families," she muttered, bringing a hand up to her face and wiping an errant tear away. "Mostly I think about losing my husband and children." She shot a look at Carol who was looking back emphatically at her. "When the outbreak went viral, my son was away from home on his first cub scout camping trip. It was this entire weekend-long ordeal and he had been so excited for it. I had to convince my husband for us to travel to the campground where Tristan, my son, was staying so we could bring him home."

"Did you?"

Georgie shook her head. "No, he wasn't there," she answered. "Fifteen boys and two scout leaders went on that trip and when we got to their campsite, there were only eleven boys and one leader, and they were all dead and turned by then. I just wanted to look further for my son, but my husband insisted we go home and wait for him there, that maybe the missing leader had gathered the other boys and was bringing them home to their families. So, we went home, and Tristan wasn't there, but we waited it out. I just…I couldn't sit still for long; the waiting and not doing anything. My husband stayed home with our daughter while I would go on supply runs, but they were just an excuse to go out looking for our boy. He didn't take too kindly to me going out like that when he found out my true motive. He told me I had to accept that Tristan was most likely dead and there was nothing we could do. He said our priority was Avery, our daughter." She looked at Carol. "But there was never a body; there was no physical proof to suggest our son was dead. For all I know he was saved and spirited away by some kind people who chose to protect him through all this. At least, that's what I hope happened."

"Your husband and daughter," Carol spoke. "They didn't make it."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. Georgie was alone, so it was a valid assumption. Carol knew from firsthand experience what it felt like to lose a child; she knew the look in a person's eyes to determine how deep a loss they suffered because it was the look she saw in the mirror when she had the opportunity to glimpse her reflection.

"No," Georgie replied. "Well, no and maybe." Off Carol's questioning look, she added, "A little over a month in, we were still hunkered in and I refused to go anywhere else. I was holding out that Tristan would come home somehow. Jake, that was my husband, he kept listening to the radio; hearing about Atlanta being a safe zone. He wanted to go there, but I wouldn't budge. We got into a fight and I threw it in his face that he wasn't pulling his weight. _I_ was the one doing runs, _I_ was the one looking for our boy, and _I_ was the one taking care of us; providing food to eat, fortifying our home and keeping our clothes clean. He just sat around complaining and mumbling to himself. He looked after our daughter when I was away from the house, but when I was home, that was also my job and I did it well. I always did."

"No offense," Carol remarked, "But your husband sounds like a real winner."

Georgie chuckled under her breath. "He wasn't always a prick," she insisted. "The apocalypse just brought it out in him. He wasn't built for this kind of life. The fact that he couldn't pass the time watching TV was a particularly sore subject for him."

"What did he do for a living before this?"

"He was a pediatrician, which, in hindsight, is quite ironic. He was a doctor for children, and he no longer had the bedside manner for even helping with our daughter and didn't seem to give two shits whether our son was alive or dead."

"Did he hit you or the kids?"

Georgie shook her head adamantly. "Oh God, no. If he ever attempted to lay a hand on me or our kids, he knew I would've disemboweled him on the spot. I used to work with power tools in my spare time, so I could've done some damage, creatively." She smirked at the thought and then shook it away. "After that last fight, he threw his hands up in the air and declared he was going to Atlanta without us. He didn't even attempt to take Avery with him. He grabbed a gun for protection, the keys to his truck and then went outside and drove away." She looked at Carol again. "That was the last time I saw him alive. A couple weeks later, my brother showed up. I had thought he was dead, but there was no way for me to know. He lived out of state, but had made the trip and arrived at my door and it was like a breath of fresh air, and just in the nick of time. I needed to make a supply run, and I couldn't do it with Avery and I couldn't leave her alone. I used my brother's truck for my first supply run. I found some canned goods and toilet paper at a gas station just outside town, but I also found Jake's truck abandoned on the side of the road. The door was open, the keys still in the ignition and there was blood on the door and on the ground. There were no bodies anywhere, though, so I don't know what happened. I don't know if he survived and ran off on foot or if he was ambling about in those woods across the street as a rambler…" she looked at Carol and amended her sentence, "…a walker."

Carol turned slightly and leaned her back up against the wall. Georgie hopped down from the window sill and just braced herself against it, folding her arms over her chest. She hadn't told the story of what came next to anyone except for a friend of hers she had made within her last group. The woman, Dana, had been a fellow mother, and was in the group with her children. Dana had seen the apocalypse as the perfect excuse for finally getting away from her abusive ex-husband by taking their kids and making a run for it, eventually finding themselves trapped in their car, surrounded by ramblers – walkers – when Georgie and her group descended upon them during a supply run and helped.

"My last full day in my house," Georgie finally continued, after moments of silent reverie, "My brother opted to go for a supply run to basically loot neighboring houses. I was so happy to take a break from it and have someone else share the burden for once. I let him go with my hunting knife, this one," she patted her side, "and spent the next couple of hours coloring into some coloring books with my daughter and pretending the world was just fine for a little while. When my brother finally got back, he was out of breath and tired. He tossed my knife onto the kitchen table along with a bag full of supplies before saying he was going to lay down for a bit. When I asked if he was okay, he nodded and smiled and said he was just peachy. And I believed him, like an idiot."

"He was bit," Carol deduced again.

Georgie nodded. "A few hours later, after giving my daughter some dinner, I decided to put her to bed. I tucked her in and left her door open so I could hear her from downstairs in case she called to me. Then I went across the hall to my son's room where my brother was sleeping. He was breathing lightly, so I just smiled, still so thankful he was there, and I tucked him in as well. I went back downstairs and poured myself a much deserved glass of wine and just puttered around; straightening up, cleaning some dishes, but mostly walking aimlessly around. I blew out all the candles and walked over to the windows, peering out toward the street at the occasional walker shuffling on by. I was so caught up in my thoughts that when I heard my daughter scream bloody murder, I nearly jumped outta my skin and I dropped my wine glass to the floor. I didn't even think; I just ran up those stairs like a bat outta hell and that's when I found my brother, holding Avery in his hands, ripping into her neck with his teeth."

"Oh my God," Carol gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Her brow furrowed and she reached out her free hand to Georgie's shoulder when the younger woman began to shake slightly at the retelling of her darkest hour.

"There was blood all over both of them and I was on autopilot. I grabbed Avery away and kicked what used to be my brother in the stomach; letting him stumble back enough for me to run outta the room with my daughter in my arms and close her bedroom door behind us. I ran back downstairs and just held my daughter tight, pressing my hand to the gaping wound in her neck to no avail, assuring her she was gonna be fine, but when I looked down at her little face, she was already gone. She had lost too much blood too quickly. I couldn't let go right away. I just kept rocking her, and sobbing and wishing this, everything that had happened, was just a bad dream I hadn't yet woken up from." Georgie turned around and placed her hands on the window sill, peering out toward the street again, where she noticed one, solitary walker moving along the street toward the intersection. "I laid Avery down on the couch and went to the hall closet where we kept our supply of weapons I had gathered on multiple runs. I grabbed a double-barreled shotgun and loaded it. Without thinking on it, I went back upstairs and stood outside my daughter's room. I could hear my brother banging his body against the other side of it, groaning. I cursed myself. I should've sensed he'd been bit. I should've looked him over and quarantined him away from Avery. I should've kept her downstairs with me." After a moment, she added, sadly, "She was only three years old."

"Unfortunately, we can't undo what's been done," Carol offered.

Georgie gripped the window sill tighter and her jaw clenched slightly, still angry with herself and unable to let go of the mistake she made; letting her guard down.

"I hesitated for a moment and then I kicked the door in. I heard my brother stumble back again before I saw him. When he started to come at me, I aimed the muzzle at his head and pulled the trigger without blinking. He dropped back upon Avery's little bed and I ignored the fact that my brother's brains had just painted the wall behind him. I closed the door again and went back downstairs where I stared at Avery's body for what felt like forever and I knew in my heart what I had to do. I loved my brother, but he had turned into a monster and I didn't want to see that happen to my little girl. So, I pulled my grandmother's afghan off the back of the couch and covered Avery completely with it. I had one shot left in the gun and I pressed the muzzle against Avery's forehead and after I told her I was sorry and that I loved her and to forgive me, I pulled the trigger."

Georgie closed her eyes tight, failing to get the image out of her head.

"I can't imagine how terrible that must've been." Carol shook her head slightly in sympathy. "I've lost a daughter, too. She was much older, twelve years old. My group and I, we were headed away from Atlanta, we'd just left the CDC, and we were swarmed by a herd of walkers. Two of them chased after my girl, Sophia was her name, and she ran into the woods. That was the last I saw her. Rick, our group leader, told her to hide when he'd caught up to her but when he and a few others went back, she was nowhere to be found. I was inconsolable," she explained. She had turned and was now looking out the window again as well, staring at the same lonely walker as Georgie. "There were search parties for her for days. We wound up setting up camp at a farm nearby, owned by a man by the name of Hershel Greene. There was a barn on the property which we eventually learned was filled with plenty of walkers. One of Hershel's friends had been rounding them up and storing them in there; they thought somehow there would be a way to bring those people back from being walkers." She scoffed quietly at the ridiculous notion. "We'd been to the CDC, we saw footage of what happens and how there is no coming back from it."

Listening to Carol speak this time, Georgie was able to ignore her own pain for a little while and find comfort in that; in their mutual loss of children.

"Shane, Rick's best friend, had been getting more and more short-tempered and hot-headed by that point. He wanted to go in guns a-blazing into that barn and kill all those walkers dead for good, but Hershel wouldn't allow it because his wife and stepson were in there. Shane eventually had had enough and he opened the doors to the barn and all those walkers began stumbling out. Most of the group began putting those walkers down and, when it was over, we just all stood there, trying to let it soak in. But then there was another groan from inside the barn, one last walker was still inside," Carol pursed her lips together and covered her mouth with her fingertips to keep a sob in. Like Georgie, she hadn't spoken about her child's death in a long time. Bringing it back up made it feel new again. However, she swallowed that sob down and continued on. "That's when I saw her; my little girl. She was a walker, and everyone who was so gung-ho about putting the other walkers down was suddenly struck dumb. I know a lot of them assumed Sophia was already dead, but seeing her that way was still a shock; for me, most of all, but that goes without saying. Just like how you believe your son might still be alive; there was no body up until then, so I still had hope."

"Who shot her?" Georgie asked aloud and then reeled herself back in. She hadn't meant to actually ask the question. She had been thinking it, and it just spilled out of her mouth.

"Rick," Carol answered. "He did what had to be done, and I hated him for it, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. Watching your child die, as you very well can understand, is not something a parent, a mother especially, should witness."

"No, it isn't," Georgie agreed.

Carol looked beyond the street, over the tops of the building and to the trees; in the direction of the prison yet again. "Rick has always done what needed to be done for us. He kept us together, protected us. Yeah, we've lost people here and there – it's bound to happen – but he kept us together," she repeated herself. "That's why I can't be mad at him for sending me away. He did what he believed had to be done."

The two of them became silent again, listening to the walker bump into a garbage can and knock it over. They both tensed at the same time, waiting for more walkers to hear the sound and come out of the woodwork. However, no others came. It was just the one nearby and that was a small blessing in disguise. Neither woman wanted to wake in the morning to a herd gathering outside.

"I'm sorry about Sophia," Georgie expressed, covering Carol's hand with hers.

Carol looked up at Georgie with an appreciative smile and then nodded in sympathy. "I'm sorry about Avery and your brother," she echoed. She then offered more of a pleasant smirk. "I won't say sorry about your prick of a husband or your son Tristan, because there is still a chance they are alive, and hope is a good thing to have."

"Yeah," Georgie concurred, turning away from the window. "Sometimes it's the only thing we have."


	3. Solidarity

"_One of the main points about travelling is to develop in us a feeling of solidarity, of that oneness without which no better world is possible."_ – Ella Maillart

* * *

Both Carol and Georgie had forgone the comforts of sleeping downstairs on the blue sofa that night and instead slept on the floor of the same room in which they'd been sharing their personal tragedies. What woke Georgie at daybreak was the song of a Black-capped Chickadee that had chosen to temporarily perch on the outer sill of the opened window where she had been sitting. When she stirred awake and sat up to look at it, the bird became spooked and flew away. Georgie rubbed the sleep out from the corners of her eyes and stretched a leg out to hit Carol's foot with her own.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey," she called out.

Carol groaned and rolled from her side onto her back while covering her face with the back of her right arm. "Bacon would be amazing right about now."

Georgie smirked, lying back down to stare up at the ceiling. "Day old fish that had been left out in the hot sun would be amazing right about now." She turned her head toward Carol. "Speaking of limited food choices, want me to grab something from the car to get us going for the day? We can check the other buildings around here afterward and see what's available to grab for supplies."

"Yeah. I left the keys downstairs on the desk I pushed against the front door," Carol informed, removing her arm and looking at Georgie who was pulling herself up to her feet.

"Okie doke."

Quietly, Georgie disappeared from the room, leaving Carol to wake up a bit more. When she made her way to the front room, she noticed the keys sitting on one side of the scales of justice, which forced that particular side to hang lower than the other. Snatching the keys up, she moved toward the back of the building. There had been a side door that was used for the main entrance to the upstairs and led out to the side street, but that wasn't where Georgie needed to go. The very back door, which was off a storage room of sorts had probably never been used as much even before the outbreak. Underuse and fluctuations in temperature over the last year and a half, give or take a month, made the door stick when trying to open it. Georgie had to press her shoulder and her full body weight against it to finally get out. She was built a slight bit stockier than Carol, and it was hard for her to open the door. She wondered how Carol had managed it the day before.

Peering carefully from side to side, Georgie inspected the alley and side street the alley emptied out into for signs of walkers, but there were none. Leaving the back door open a crack, she stepped as quiet as a mouse over to the trunk of the car, still cautious of walkers that might be nearby. Once she unlocked the trunk, she lifted the hatch over her head and reached into the milk crate containing a few canned goods. She grabbed one can of peaches and one water bottle. Georgie had decided then and there that she and Carol would share both to conserve their supply in case their supply run later was not successful.

Closing the hatch with a discreet click, she walked back into the building, set the can and bottle down on a small table and then used both hands to pull the door firmly closed and then moved the small table in front of it as an added precaution. There was a deadbolt as well, and she used that feature to play it safe. When she made her way back toward front of the building, she found Carol gathering plastic bags and coat hangers.

Georgie arched an eyebrow out of curiosity before brandishing the can of peaches and bottle of water. "I present a cliché Georgian breakfast of peaches."

Carol looked over and smirked. "We sharing?"

"Well, yeah, I figured it's best to conserve what we got till we can gather up more food. If the supply run proves pointless, we gotta make do with what we got till we can find someplace else to forage through." Georgie eyed the other woman. "Is that not okay with you?"

Shaking her head, Carol insisted, "No, that's good. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, right?"

"Yep."

After opening the can up again with her knife and sharing the peaches within with Carol and taking turns downing swigs of water from the same bottle, Carol set off for upstairs with the plastic bags and coat hangers without explanation. Georgie just shrugged and wandered around the downstairs to look around for what could be used for any possible purpose. At one point she had to use the toilet in the two piece bathroom, but couldn't flush since the water was off. However, just being able to use a toilet at all was a wondrous thing. It was better than squatting in the woods or in a bucket with next to no privacy at all and using leaves or ripped pieces of clothe to wipe. Carol had toilet paper among the supplies she had brought inside from the car the day before; another small blessing.

By late morning or early afternoon, whatever time it was, Carol came running downstairs suddenly and then just stood in the doorway to the sofa room looking anxious.

"What's wrong?" Georgie stood up from where she'd been sitting on the floor and her hand instinctively went to the handle of her knife once more. "Are there walkers outside?"

Carol shook her head, seeming almost distracted. "The prison," she spoke. "I was hooking the bags outside the window in hopes to gather water when it rained when I saw smoke. It's a big, black plume of smoke coming from the direction of the prison. I-I-I…I think my people might be in danger. I need to…"

Georgie reached her arms out and placed her hands on Carol's shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, just take a moment, 'kay? Do you want to go back to the prison and see if they're okay?"

Hesitating, Carol looked up at the younger woman and nodded; worry clearly visible on her face. "Yeah, I do."

"Alright," Georgie nodded. She gestured toward the back of the building. "See, this is why you're a good person. After being kicked to the curb, so to speak, you have every right to wash your hands of those people, and yet you still want to go back and help them." She smirked as they made their way to the back room and moved the small table away from the door. "Let's go be heroes or something."

* * *

The drive to the prison was silent. Carol sped along the abandoned road, dead leaves billowing behind them from the gust of air the car created. The overgrown trees on either side of the road blocked out much of the sunlight from above that it gave the impression of an overcast day. When they neared the prison grounds, Georgie shifted in her seat on the passenger's side and leaned forward as Carol brought the car to a crawl before breaking completely.

About one hundred or more yards away, there stood the prison tower engulfed in flames. Sections of the actual prison buildings were either on fire as well, missing, crumbling or completely destroyed. Georgie looked away from the scene to take note of Carol's reaction. The older woman looked purely stunned and there wasn't anything Georgie felt she could say.

Within the gates, there were plenty of walkers shuffling about, and Georgie could just barely make out dead bodies strewn among the prison grounds, both inside and outside the gates. There was even a military tank, which probably explained the exploded holes in the walls of the buildings.

"Did a world war take place here?" Georgie muttered. She assumed this had to have just happened recently because Carol had not mentioned leaving a prison that _wasn't_ intact.

"I don't know," Carol finally found her voice. "Someone must've attacked them." Turning in her seat, she opened the driver's side door and hopped out, holding onto the door while she stood there, still just staring at the destruction.

Georgie did the same. "Do you want to go up there and check for survivors?"

Carol frowned and shook her head. "There are too many walkers and—" She cut herself off when something caught her attention. "There," she pointed toward a section of the woods far across the field and opposite them.

Georgie narrowed her gaze and saw what Carol was seeing; a burly figure running off into the trees. "Who is it?"

"I think that's Tyreese."

"The one who went ape-shit over Karen's death?"

Carol nodded. "One in the same."

Georgie tapped the roof of the car. "Let's go after him." Off Carol's look toward her, she added, "We back up out of here, and go around. There has to be a road that leads around these parts, in that direction. Maybe the woods there come out to a road. We can cut him off and bring him back to the law office, ask him what happened."

Pursing her lips in thought, Carol seemed conflicted at the suggestion presented. "I think I'd be the last person he would want help from."

"Well, you can't begin to make amends with him if you just keep standing here like an indecisive lump on a log." Georgie walked around toward the front of the car and gestured behind her with her thumb. "C'mon, switch places. I'll drive."

Carol still seemed hesitant, but when Georgie was in front of her, giving her a gentle shove out of the way, she finally moved. Georgie slid into the driver's seat and Carol went around to the passenger's. Both shut their doors at the same time and, as soon as Georgie shifted the car out of park, she made a three point turn and pulled the car around to head back in the direction they had come.

She got back onto the main road they had been on before turning off onto the access road which had led to the prison and retraced their steps. Georgie didn't exactly know where to go, but she was usually pretty good at winging it in situations like this. Instead of continuing straight toward the direction of the town where the law office was, she instead turned left onto another she felt might lead toward the area they wanted to get to.

However, not ten minutes on that road, they were blocked by two cars on the road; one of them overturned and charred by some sort of fire that had gone out long before.

"We can't continue this way in the car," Georgie commented. "We can go back toward the prison and go around the other way hopefully." She sat back and looked at Carol. "It's your call."

"I suppose we could try that."

"If you don't want to, we can just head back to town, to the office and work on that supply run before it gets dark."

"No," Carol muttered. "We need to help the others. There were children there."

Georgie nodded. "Alright then," she smirked. "Operation Save the Children is now in effect."

Putting the car into reverse and another three point turn, both women were once again off.

* * *

Carol had decided they go back to the prison and just drive across the field and leave the car there at the edge of the woods where they saw Tyreese go. She figured they could follow him on foot to catch up that way, and once they found him, double back to the car. Doing just that was easier said than done. The terrain wasn't exactly ideal for a car that was nearing twenty years of age. Hitting a hole in the ground, one of the hubcaps popped off and rolled away.

"Shit," Georgie swore when the car got stuck in somewhat of a ditch. "Great plan," she grumbled.

"Sorry," Carol shrugged. "It worked in theory."

"We won't be able to turn this car around."

They sat there for a moment, staring at the woods before them and Georgie turned off the ignition. Behind them several walkers had become distracted by their car and were ambling toward the woods.

"We're gonna have to make it on foot from here on out until we can find another car," Georgie continued.

"I don't think we're gonna make it back to the law office," Carol sighed, hopping out of the car. "It was nice while it lasted."

"Hey," Georgie shrugged as she got out and followed Carol to the trunk of the car. "It served a purpose." As they opened the hatch and Carol pulled out a backpack and a hunting knife she strapped to her belt, Georgie added, "I actually got to use a toilet. Do you know how long it's been since I used an actual toilet?"

Smirking, Carol opened the backpack and shoved a few canned goods and a canteen of water inside, along with extra ammo. "I liked the sofa."

"Want me to carry that?" Georgie gestured to the backpack as Carol threw it over her shoulder and slid it on.

"No, I'm good."

Both women turned around to see the walkers still approaching but they were at a safe enough distance away still to get a head start away from them. Nimble like cats they entered the woods, darting around trees, trying to look for clues of which direction Tyreese might have gone into.

"This would be easier with Daryl," Carol commented under her breath.

"Hmm?" Georgie looked over at the other woman. "Daryl one of the other people from your group?"

"Yeah," Carol nodded. "He's great at hunting and tracking. He can touch a footprint and tell how long it's been since it had been made. He's like the MacGyver of nature."

Georgie chuckled a bit. "We're you two close?"

Carol closed her mouth tight and looked forward. Licking her lips a bit, she gave a faint bob of her head to confirm Georgie's question. "He's a good friend. I care for him a great deal."

Grinning, Georgie nudged Carol's arm with her own. "Do you like him like a boyfriend?" she inquired, teasingly.

"Oh, shut up."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I did not say yes."

"You didn't have to," Georgie insisted. "Omission is admission."

"That is…okay," Carol caved slightly. "I have never found him to not be unfriendly on the eyes and he is a very good man, and I care about his well-being and I believe he cares about me just as much, but," she asserted, "Our group has been through so much together that it forced us to bond and grow close. We needed each other to survive and all grew to love each other as family."

"Oh, what a cop out."

"I just refuse to give you the satisfaction of turning me into a teenage girl with a schoolyard crush."

Georgie snickered and rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

* * *

They walked around for a long time before night fell and the trail they seemed to have found went cold. Huddling up back to back on the forest floor, they kept their eyes open in all directions while they rested for a few hours. Traveling in the woods at night was never an easy thing to do. Georgie fell asleep at some point, for an undisclosed amount of time, only to be eventually awoken by Carol who was nudging her forcefully in the shoulder.

"Georgie, we have to move," Carol's voice rang out in a loud whisper. "Walkers."

That snapped Georgie to consciousness. She practically sprang to her feet as she whipped her head around to look where Carol was looking and, sure as shit, a small herd of around eight or nine walkers was approaching about fifty or so feet away.

"Fucking walkers," Georgie grumbled. "Never a dull moment, I swear to Christ."

Both her and Carol unsheathed their respective knives and made a beeline away from the walkers, headed down a slight ravine which they hoped would slow the walkers down. Trudging through a tiny stream of water, they leaned forward and crawled up the other side of the ravine which happened to be considerably steeper and harder to ascend. When Carol began to unintentionally slide back, Georgie looked around for a different route and then slapped Carol's arm before gesturing to an old, fallen tree trunk which was a little ways up from the where they were in the stream and covered the entire expanse of the gap from one side to the other.

If they could make it there on time and outrun the walkers, which were now starting to stumble down into the ravine behind them, they could climb across the fallen tree and get to the other side, to safety. The walkers wouldn't be capable enough to follow the same path without falling over.

While the walkers who had managed to get back up to their feet after stumbling down into the creek began to follow after Georgie and Carol, the women climbed back up the same side of the ravine they first came down. They slipped slightly, trying to get their footing on the slick leaves that coated ground in spots. However, there was no competing with the agility of a living, breathing individual compared to that of a walker. Georgie and Carol ran the last few feet to the base of the fallen tree and then began the tedious task of carefully crawling across it without slipping off and falling.

"Be careful, take it slow," Georgie warned. "This trunk is about ten or twelve feet above the creek; you fall off this, you'll break something or at the very least sprain something, and then you're open game for those ramblers down there."

"Don't worry; I've managed plenty a slippery slope before."

"Did you just make a pun at me right now?"

Carol released a small giggle, despite everything going on. "Maybe."

"D'ya ever read _Bridge to Terabithia_?"

"With the two kids who create the make-believe world in the woods? I read it to Sophia once."

"Yeah," Georgie replied. "Except I was more thinking about the fact that they used a fallen trunk like this to get to Terabithia."

"I thought it was a rope swing?"

Georgie thought about it, just as she made it to the other side of the trunk. "Oh, yeah," she said. "It would've made more sense if their bridge was something that resembled an actual bridge, though, right?"

Both of them successfully reached the other side of the ravine and turned to see one walker was making the move to actually crawl across the trunk as well. Georgie sighed heavily and gestured to their side of the trunk. Carol took the hint and helped her shift it and try and push it down into the ravine so that it no longer served the purpose of a bridge anymore. It took a lot of heave-ho, but they managed it. The walker who was starting to climb over the trunk slid off and fell face first into the creek while the others in already creek were clawing at the women's side to no avail.

Wiping their hands on their pants, they looked at each other with a nod and then continued on through the woods; forgoing sleep and doing the best they could to find Tyreese in the dark. They did take breaks here and there, to rest their feet or share swigs of water from the canteen in Carol's backpack. Several hours later, when daylight crested over the horizon and began to filter through the trees, they were able to fully resume their search for Tyreese. The trail, or what trail they had been able to follow the day before, had all but gone cold and it became more aimless wandering and just hoping to find their way out of the woods and hope to reach better shelter by the next nightfall.

"I wonder who made it out of the prison," Carol eventually spoke, after a long while of neither women talking.

Georgie couldn't really offer a suggestion, since she knew none of the people. "Well, the children, definitely," was all she could manage to say.

"Carl, Judith, Lizzie, Mika, Luke, Molly," Carol rattled off.

"Those the kids?"

Carol nodded, her thumbs hooked in the straps of her backpack as they walked. "Judith isn't quite a kid, though. She's just a baby. She was born about eight months ago during an emergency c-section and her mom died from too much blood loss. Carl is Judith's older brother. He had to shoot his mom so she wouldn't turn."

"Damn," Georgie gasped.

"Yeah," Carol agreed. "Carl and Judith are Rick's kids. Jesse and Mika; they're sisters. They lost their father a few days ago and I had kinda taken them under my wing. The other two, Luke and Molly, I wasn't too close with. Another boy, Owen, he died a few days ago from the flu."

"I hope they all made it out."

"Me, too." Carol looked sad as she glanced at the ground before them.

* * *

No more than another hour of walking and searching through the woods had gone by when Carol noticed a large set of footprints in a muddy stretch of walking path.

"I found something," Carol announced and pointed in the direction the footprints were headed. "That way, I think."

Georgie followed after Carol for a short while longer when they came upon three walkers shuffling along together. When they caught whiff of the women's scent, they turned and came toward them. As not to alert any others, Georgie pulled out her hunting knife instead of her gun and braced herself. As soon as the first came close enough to her, she grabbed its shoulder to hold it back at a safe distance and then jammed the blade into its skull. She pulled the blade out easily as the walker dropped dead to the ground. Carol used her knife as well and took down the second walker.

"Go ahead, go," Georgie called over. "I'll catch up."

The third walker came ambling toward her as she led it a few feet away from Carol who continued to followed the footprints in the mud. Gripping the handle a little more tightly than normal, Georgie all but snarled just like the walker as she lunged at it and buried the blade into the third walker's forehead. As it went down, she crouched down over its body while removing the knife. She wiped the blade on the walker's shirt and then stood up, cracking her neck.

When Georgie caught up with Carol, she knitted her brow together and stopped in her tracks. "D'ya hear that?"

"Hmm?"

"I thought I heard a baby crying."

Carol shot Georgie a look. "Judith."

Both women turned their walking into more of a sprint as the sound of crying got louder and then somewhat muffled. The figures of two walkers moving through the trees up ahead caught their attention.

"This way," Georgie pointed. "They hear the crying too."

Carol and Georgie followed the direction the walkers were headed and that's when they saw them; the two blonde girls, standing back to back. The oldest was holding a crying baby girl who was wiggling around. The younger of the two held a gun up, pointed at the walkers with shaking hands, clearly terrified to pull the trigger, but she somehow did. The gun fired and the blast sound bounced off the trees. However, her aim was poor and it missed whatever walker she had been meaning to shoot.

That's when Carol and Georgie got close enough. They each used their knives and took down a walker; Carol the female, Georgie the male. The younger sister all but squealed in delight when she saw Carol there.

"Carol!" she ran over to the older woman and hugged her side while she looked back over to her older sister who still held Judith. "Lizzie, it's okay now. Carol's here."

Georgie approached Lizzie and placed a hand to her shoulder. "Sweetie?"

Lizzie snapped out of whatever zone she was in and removed her hand from the baby's mouth. She looked suspiciously up at Georgie and then looked over her shoulder toward Carol. Her entire demeanor changed in seconds; from comatose to jubilant. From Georgie's perspective, it was a little unsettling. Carol walked over, still holding her blade in her left hand while reaching for Judith with her right. Lizzie readily passed the baby girl along and then shifted the diaper bag on her shoulder.

"You came back," Lizzie greeted.

"I did," Carol confirmed.

Lizzie shot a look at Georgie. "Who are you?"

"I'm Georgie."

"Isn't that a boy's name?"

"It's short for Georgianna. I was named after my grandpa George, though," Georgie explained.

"She's a friend," Carol assured, "and she just help save you from those walkers, so don't be rude. Remember your manners."

Lizzie looked from Carol, and then back to Georgie. "Thank you. I'm Lizzie. That's my sister, Mika."

"Hello, Lizzie," Georgie nodded. "And you're welcome."

"Who are you traveling with?" Carol asked the sisters. "You're not alone, are you?"

"No," Mika shook her head. "We heard someone scream and Tyreese went to go help them. He gave me this gun and he told us to run if we saw walkers, but I couldn't. I got too scared."

"You shot at the walker, though. We heard it. That counts for something," Georgie remarked. "But it is always safer to run away if you can."

"Where's Tyreese now? Which way did he go?"

Mika pointed turned slightly and pointed toward a thinning area of tree coverage, so that's the direction the girls led the women. Georgie smiled at little Judith, letting her wrapped her hand around her finger for a bit before they came out of the woods and upon a set of train tracks. Just up a few dozen yards was a large black man wearing a beanie on his head, bashing in the skulls of a few walkers with a hammer, while another man was bleeding from a bite wound in his neck.

As the large, black man dropped the last walker, the females approached from behind him.

"Tyreese," Carol called out.

Tyreese turned around, eyes wide and full of relief.

"How, how?" he mumbled with shaky breaths as he hurried over and pulled an uncertain Carol into a hug along with Judith who she still held in her arms.

Considering what Carol had told her, Georgie could sense why the older woman was apprehensive toward his gesture. To react such a way in seeing her, he must not know what she had done, or he was so glad to see a familiar face, he didn't care what she had done if he _did_ know.

"How'd you find us? Where were you? How'd you—" he began asking all at once, but was cut off by the other man, who was dropping to his knees and was crying; physically and emotionally defeated.

"Stay here with Georgie, girls," Carol told Lizzie and Mika, and then handed Judith to Georgie.

As Tyreese and Carol approached the man, he looked up at them while Carol pocketed her bloody blade. "Stay on the tracks," he muttered. "It was my mistake."

"The woods have more cover," Carol insisted.

"No," the man shook his head. "You don't understand. There's a place, up the tracks. It's safe. You can take the children there."

Georgie watched as Carol and Tyreese looked at each other and then back to the man.

"Trust me, please. Follow the tracks." He hunched forward and looked down, reaching for the other man who had been killed by a walker that was clearly someone of importance to him.

Carol turned around and looked over at Georgie and gestured at the tracks with a nod of her head and Georgie nudged Lizzie forward, while still holding onto Judith. Tyreese followed suit, taking Mika's hand, as all six of them began to make the trek down the abandoned train tracks, leaving behind the man to cry over the body of his fallen friend or relative.

* * *

As they walked along, with Tyreese now in front with Mika and Lizzie in between them all with the diaper bag, Georgie looked over at Carol who was once again carrying Judith. Tyreese had only just briefly been introduced to Georgie moments before, and all they exchanged was names and not how she came to know Carol.

"He doesn't know," Georgie mouthed, barely whispering. "Does he? The way he greeted you back there…"

Carol looked at the ground and shook her head before glancing up at Georgie. "No," she mouthed back. "Don't say anything, please."

"I won't," Georgie insisted.

"Tyreese?" Mika spoke, as he looked down at her; still holding her hand. "I didn't run. I didn't leave Lizzie."

"I see that. Tough little lady," he replied, giving her head a rub.

"Hey." Carol stepped forward and turned her back to Tyreese so he had access to her backpack. "There's some water in there and food." She let him remove it from her and set it to the ground to open. He seemed justifiably excited.

"Hey, hey," he muttered, pulling the water canteen out and handing it to the girls. "Here ya go." He smiled and then looked back up at Carol. "I didn't see ya get out. I thought ya…"

"I wasn't there," Carol cut in as she rocked Judith in her arms. "I hadn't gotten back yet."

Georgie smirked knowingly. _Well, it isn't exactly a lie_, she thought.

"Rick and I found a car, and he took what we had back to the prison while I…kept looking." Carol seemed sad as she looked away from Tyreese who had finished drinking from the canteen.

"Is that when you and Georgie met?" he wondered.

"Yeah," Georgie offered. "She found me on the road. We found shelter together for the night."

He glanced at her and then back to Carol. "Did you see it?" The prison was most likely what he was referring to.

Carol stole a look at Georgie before answering Tyreese. "We saw the end, and then…we saw you running into the woods. You were too far away, so we lost you, but…"

"You found us," Mika beamed.

Lizzie stepped forward. "I knew you would," she said, and smiled.

The sisters then walked in front of them while Tyreese picked up the backpack and began to carry it before stopping Carol. Georgie stopped as well while keeping an eye on Mika and Lizzie.

"Hey, maybe we can circle back and find your car," he suggested.

"The walkers and the fire," Carol commented, giving a shake of her head. "We can't go back to a graveyard."

Both of them looked a bit defeated as all they began moving again; Georgie bringing up the rear while ahead of them the sisters held hands.

Lizzie turned back. "Look."

There was a sign about twenty feet away that they all walked over to.

"Sanctuary for all, community for all," Mika read. "Those who arrive, survive."

There wasn't just a sign. There was also a map below it with all the train tracks darkened and leading to the same place in the center which was designated by a black asterisk and the name 'TERMINUS' above it. The name didn't sound familiar but Georgie had remembered some of the original members of her previous group had split off in search of some safe haven they had seen signs for. Georgie wondered if this was the same place they had been referring to then.

Lizzie looked at Tyreese with a hopeful smile and he just nodded at her.

Georgie nudged Carol slightly and both women looked at each other when Tyreese and the girls made the move to walk forward on the tracks.

"Hmm?"

"If my son survived, do you think he might be there?" she asked. "I heard about a safe haven before, months back, but I never went. What if after all this time that's where my son's been?"

"If he survived, I suppose there's a good chance," Carol offered. "The only way to find out is to go there and see for ourselves. I just…" Carol stopped walking without drawing attention to her and Georgie from Tyreese and the girls. "I need you to promise me you won't mention to them what I told you I did at the prison. You're right; he doesn't know and I need to tell him in my own time. I told you because you didn't know me, I had nothing to lose. I didn't care if you judged me because we'd only just met and were getting to know each other. Tyreese? I've lived beside him for months; he's become like family, and what I did…"

"It's okay," Georgie insisted, holding her arms out to hold Judith. She needed a fix; it had been so long since she held a baby and this little girl was just so adorable. "I got your back."

Carol gave a nod of appreciation as she handed over Judith. Nothing more needed to be said between the women and, for that, Carol was thankful.

"Hey, you two," Tyreese called out when he finally realized they had stopped walking. "We can't stop. We should cover as much track as we can before nightfall."

"Yes, sir," Georgie mock saluted, shifting Judith's weight on her hip.

One last glance at Carol before they continued on, she gave a smile, one of solidarity, and Carol smiled back.


	4. Innocence Lost

**Author's Note: Some of the dialogue said by Carol or Tyreese in the television series has been altered to fit Georgie into the mix. **

* * *

"_The pain comes from knowing that we have never been safe, and therefore will never be safe again. It comes from knowing we can never be so ignorant again. It comes from knowing we can never be children again. Losing innocence. Remembering heaven. That was the essence of hell."_ – John Jakes

* * *

Two days of following the tracks was exhausting. It felt like they would never reached Terminus and the entire while, Georgie couldn't shake the onset feeling of foreboding. She wasn't sure if it was the imminent discovery of the safe haven they were in search of or if it pertained to something else entirely. She spent most of the time taking care of Judith. Tyreese was their muscle and Carol primarily kept her eye out on Lizzie and Mika since they looked up to her as their mother figure, so that left Georgie with the main responsibility of the baby, which she was more than happy to undertake. Granted, there were times where both Tyreese and Carol took turns with Judith as well, when Georgie's arms needed a rest or she needed to duck away for a minute or two to go to the bathroom.

The first night as a group of six, they slept in the woods, with each adult taking turns to watch for walkers, but the following night they had slept on the tracks under a bridge. Tyreese and Mika lay nearer to each other, asleep, with Mika using his legs as a pillow. It was extremely uncomfortable, but Georgie used one of the wooden planks to rest her head upon while letting Judith sleep on her chest; her arms wrapped protectively around the child. Carol and Lizzie were up the incline a bit, keeping watch. Tyreese's mutterings in his sleep woke her up and she reached an arm over to pat his head. She couldn't tell if he had woken himself up, from the angle she was positioned away from him, but she felt the gesture may have helped slightly; that he knew people were there and they were all okay.

When morning broke, Georgie kept Mika entertained by skipping around on the tracks with her, while holding Judith at the same time. The baby girl seemed amused enough by the movements, so it was a win-win. Carol and Lizzie were up on the incline above the tracks again, looking for tree sap, which they brought back so Carol could use it to take care of the cut in Tyreese's arm, to fight the infection and help bring down his fever.

Later on, they were once again back to walking along the tracks. Tyreese reiterated a belief he had shared with Carol, that they might be a few days out from Terminus. Since they hadn't seen any more signs, it was hard to know for sure.

Carol was now taking a turn carrying Judith in the baby carrier on her back. Mika was at her side, asking if _Tom Sawyer_ had a happy ending, so Carol gave the cliff notes version of how it ended and then the sisters determining which one of them was more like Tom and which was more like Huck Finn.

"I forgot you used to read to 'em," Tyreese had remarked with a smile.

"I did," Carol confirmed.

Georgie smiled, bringing up the rear, just behind Tyreese. She kept a wary eye on the trees on either side of them and occasionally threw a glance over her shoulder behind them to make sure no walkers were following.

So far, so good.

A short time later, there was a strong smell of smoke in the air.

"You smell that?" Carol questioned.

"Yeah, there's a fire somewhere," Tyreese deduced, stating the obvious.

"It must be a big one if it isn't anywhere around here," Georgie spoke up. She began tapping the handle of her hunting knife; her nerves getting antsy. The feeling inside her, that something ominous around the figurative corner, had returned and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end because of it.

"We should stop here," Carol suggested. "We need to look for water."

They had used up what was left in the canteen the day before and it went without saying their palates were dry.

"I could do it," Tyreese offered.

"No," Carol looked at him. "No, you need rest. Rest your arm. Mika will help me."

Ducking off the tracks and into the woods, Carol gestured to Georgie to take Judith. The younger woman pulled the child out of the carrier first and wrapped her in her small blanket and passed the carrier to Tyreese while Carol and Mika disappeared in a separate direction with the canteen.

* * *

Sitting among the trees, with Judith swaddled in her lap, Georgie stared at Lizzie who had her eyes closed, and then opened them slowly.

"I spy trees and leaves," she muttered, and then looked to Tyreese. "Your turn."

He smirked and then looked to the left, Georgie's right and a frown took up residence on his face rather abruptly.

"What is it?" Georgie asked, following his gaze and noticing a walker stumbling along the tracks up ahead.

Casting a brief glance at her, he then looked at Lizzie. "You stay here with Georgie." He then stood up and went back up onto the tracks himself, grabbing up his hammer.

As he approached the walker, Georgie held Judith tight in her left arm while she gripped the handle of her hunting knife and unsheathed it. She caught Lizzie's curious look at her and then turned her attention back toward Tyreese as he ducked around some overgrowth that stuck out onto the tracks. When Lizzie suddenly jumped to her feet and took off after Tyreese, Georgie sighed heavily.

"Lizzie, Tyreese said to stay put here with me," she spoke firmly, but the girl ignored her, so Georgie was left with following after her.

Tyreese was about to bring his hammer down upon the head of the walker, who had somehow fallen into a hole in the tracks and gotten stuck, when Lizzie called out to Tyreese. He stopped and looked back at her.

"Sometimes we have to kill them; I know that," she informed. "But sometimes we don't."

It was in that moment that Georgie felt there was definitely something off with that girl. She could've very well stepped around the pair and stabbed the walker in the head with her knife, but by the way Lizzie was so adamantly standing in the way of that being done, and how the walker really didn't pose a threat to them, she stood down.

The feeling in the pit of Georgie's stomach twisted even more at that moment.

* * *

Eventually Carol and Mika returned to where they had left Georgie and the others and informed them of a cottage in the middle of a pecan grove they'd come across, suggesting it would be a good place to stay put for a couple of days. It was definitely a good place to stay. There were plenty of pecans to eat, Carol had seen a deer they could hunt and eat, there was a well full of water and a barbed wire fence, which wasn't too big but it would suffice.

Once they were within the fenced in portion of the property, Lizzie pointed out a plume of grey smoke beyond the trees in the distance, which was clearly what they had smelled earlier. Once they approached the home, the sisters were given the task of looking after Judith while the adults went up onto the porch to check for walkers inside.

They banged on the door and Carol spotted one walker, but it wasn't moving much. She suggested they take it slow, stay close, and go room to room. She then told the sisters to sit tight and for neither of them to come inside the house until the adults came out; no matter what the girls might hear. Mika was tasked with taking out her gun and keeping watch.

Georgie, Carol and Tyreese weren't inside the house for one minute when they heard Judith crying, Lizzie screaming and a gunshot. They came running back out to see a walker on the grass, trying to crawl after the children, just as Mika shot it successfully in the head while Lizzie held tightly to Judith.

"You girls okay?" Georgie questioned, as Carol helped Lizzie to her feet and Tyreese then took Judith and went up onto the porch to console her.

"Mika, lower the gun," Carol demanded. "You did it; you saved 'em. Why are you upset, Lizzie? You scared?"

Georgie went up onto the porch and stood next to Tyreese, giving Judith her finger to hold onto. It had helped during the two previous days when the baby girl got cranky and cried. Georgie looked down at Carol speaking with the girls and how visibly upset Lizzie was and couldn't understand what was going on in the girl's head when she claimed she didn't want to say why she was upset and crying. Tyreese exchanged a look of worry with Georgie, who then reached to take Judith from him.

She was a mother. Even though her daughter was dead, and whether or not her son was, Georgie was a mother and her natural instinct was to care for these three girls who were not hers. However, being around Lizzie for the last two days and watching her reactions to walkers, and how she just seemed to overall function, Georgie found herself growing increasingly concerned and even a bit uncomfortable around the twelve-year-old. She hated to admit such a thing, but Georgie was starting to feel as if Lizzie could eventually become a threat to the others.

Georgie didn't feel it was her place to mention her opinion to either Carol or Tyreese, though. Both knew the girl and where therefore attached to her and might take offense, even if they seemed to share the same looks of concern on their faces.

* * *

That night, they had found a crib in one of the bedrooms that they could use for Judith. It was empty and Georgie had remembered seeing the small grave outside with baby shoes around the cross as the grave marker. Images of burying her own daughter entered her head and she became a little upset and had to excuse herself for a moment, shutting herself momentarily in the bathroom. She heard Mika asking Carol what was wrong, and Carol reply simply that Georgie had children too before; that her little girl had died and her son was lost. Georgie listened to Mika ask if her son was dead too but Carol admitted the truth, that neither she nor Georgie knew for sure, but hoped he wasn't.

Georgie was certain Tyreese was listening to Carol speak as well, because when he knocked on the bathroom door and asked if she was alright.

"I'm fine," Georgie insisted, wiping a tear from her face and bracing herself on the sink while she stared at her dirty reflection in the dirty mirror. Gathering her composure, she inhaled a breath and exhaled a breath, and then straightened up. When she opened the bathroom door, Tyreese was standing there still.

"I don't know it doesn't compare to what you've lost, but I know how it feels losing someone you love," he spoke quietly while Carol cracked open pecans in the other room with the sisters, and Judith who was asleep in the crib. "I lost my girlfriend recently; she was killed. And then, when this man, The Governor, attacked the prison and we all scattered, I lost track of my sister, Sasha. I don't know if she's alive or dead. But there's hope that she's alive, and there's hope your boy is, and I think hanging on to that is a good thing. We all in this together, and if we can, we'll keep a lookout for your boy together as well."

Georgie smiled appreciatively at the man. "Thank you."

She suddenly felt bad, knowing and keeping the secret that Carol had killed his girlfriend from him, especially with how sweet he was being and how kind he clearly was, despite the way he could look imposing. He was really just this big teddy bear. However, Georgie had made a promise not to say a word to Tyreese. It was not her secret to tell.

The night progressed after that into a happier atmosphere. Mika found a ragdoll to play with, they had a fire going to keep warm and Tyreese had determined they had plenty of water and, if they could bag that deer Carol saw, they would be all set.

When he just stood there, and was asked what was wrong, he just smirked.

"I'm not used to this."

"Used to what?" Lizzie wondered, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Being in a living room, in a house," he replied.

"Yeah, so relax," Mika spoke, which made Georgie chuckle from where she sat on the couch, next to the crib.

Tyreese sat down in the wingback recliner and found an old magazine beside it, flipping through the pages, and everyone just seemed to fall into a peacefully content silence. Georgie looked upon Judith, whose little hand was sticking out toward the wooden bars of the crib. Reaching her own hand out, Georgie once again gave the baby girl her finger; a gesture that, even in her sleep, Judith was able to sense and gripped tight out of comfort.

"We should live here," Mika suggested.

The adults looked among themselves and simply smiled.

It was a nice thought, but for Georgie, she couldn't see herself staying long there if she ever wanted to find out for sure if her son was still alive in the world.

* * *

Following an incident with Lizzie and a walker the next day, Carol had gone off with Mika to go hunt the deer. They came back empty-handed and soon after, Carol went with Tyreese to get water from the well, while Georgie stayed with the girls. She had been taking care of Judith earlier in the day when Lizzie had been playing with the walker and Carol killed it, which didn't sate Georgie's nerves in regard to the older sister. Mika, on the other hand, was warmed up to more and enjoyed having around her.

Georgie was feeding Judith some baby food when Mika ran out of the house calling after her big sister. The ginger-haired woman carried the infant over to a window to see Lizzie disappearing around the dilapidated work shed and then Mika going off to pursue her.

Frowning deeply, Georgie hoped those girls stayed safe. Mika had taken her gun with her, so she felt a little better about the situation and came to the conclusion that perhaps Lizzie was just going to sulk somewhere as most pre-teens usually did.

She finished feeding Judith and then sat down with her on her lap on the couch, making faces and kissing that little face.

"You're such a pretty little girl, aren't you?" she murmured, coaxing a smile out. "My, what big blue eyes you have." Then in a gruff voice, she added, "The better to see you with, my dear."

Judith smiled and cooed, which made Georgie smile, but the good mood was quickly cut off when she heard Lizzie and Mika screaming.

Gripping Judith firmly against her in one arm, she stood up and, on instinct, ran to the table where she'd left her gun. She picked it up and burst out the front door to find charred walkers chasing after the sisters. Mika tripped and fell on the barbed wire fence and Lizzie had run back to help her.

Focusing on the killer instinct she had relied on for the last year and a half, Georgie hurried down the porch steps, aimed her gun, which she had since reloaded with extra ammo Carol had on her, and fired a few shots into the walkers, occasionally missing. Carol and Tyreese came upon the scene as well, and fired their weapons as well. Most surprising of all was Lizzie who had picked up her own gun and shot the approaching walkers.

All three adults and both sisters were all standing together, shooting the remainder of the walkers dead, and when it was over with, the returned to the house; the adults quite proud of how the sisters handled themselves when push finally came to shove.

* * *

Another night had come and gone and, unbeknownst to Georgie, Carol and Tyreese had been talking between themselves about not going to Terminus after all and staying at the house instead. Had Georgie been let in on this idea, she might have left then and there. It wasn't winter, where she needed the shelter for an extended period of time. She had a goal. She had to keep moving; to keep searching any possible path that may lead to the possibility of her son's survival, even if she had her own doubts, of which she hated admitting to herself.

Considering both Carol and Tyreese had claimed they would help her in searching for her son, had Georgie known of their other intentions, she would've felt deeply betrayed. She would've hated to leave Judith behind, because she knew the baby girl should stay where it was safer, but Georgie would definitely have gone off alone at that point.

That next day at the grove, Carol and Tyreese had gone off to hunt together and Lizzie and Mika took Judith with them, wanting to play "picnic" by the barn. They were in earshot and Georgie could see them well enough from the house, so she had given them the okay.

Alone in the house, she went about crushing the toasted pecans, which Carol had toasted in the oven the night before with the sisters, into a powder with the mortar and pestle she had found in a cupboard. She then adding some vegetable oil, brown sugar and vanilla extract she had found, that was still good, into a larger bowl to mix. She was going to attempt to make some sort of pecan butter; something, anything, that could be more of a homemade food for them, and maybe something Judith could eat since she wasn't at the age where she could really handle solids. She hoped maybe they could find some berries she could puree as well. She used to make her own baby food for her kids many a moon ago, but that was with the correct foods and tools in her own kitchen; not making do with whatever was lying around.

Occasionally, she stole a glance out the window at the girls to check on them and all seemed fine for a while until the very last time she checked.

Georgie looked toward the barn and saw Lizzie standing up on the blanket and in her hand was a bloody knife. Where the blood came from terrified Georgie since she couldn't see either Mika or Judith from where she was standing in the kitchen.

Tearing out of the house like a bat out of hell, the screen door slammed behind her as she ran down the steps and through the grass toward the girls.

"Lizzie!"

Had walkers shown up? Were Mika and Judith okay? Were they bit? Was _Lizzie_ bit?

The older sister turned when she saw Georgie approach and the girl wore a pleased smile on her face. "It's okay, I promise," she expressed, still gripping the knife. Even her hands were covered in blood.

"Oh, god…Lizzie."

Just as she noticed Judith perfectly alright, lying on her stomach on the blanket, she spotted Mika, off to the side in the grass, on her back, and dead. Before she could advance on Lizzie, Carol and Tyreese came rushing over in her peripheral vision.

"Don't worry, she'll come back," Lizzie said. "I didn't hurt her brain."

Tyreese and Carol wore the same mix of shock, horror and devastation on their faces that Georgie had, while also keeping their cool. Lizzie still held a knife in her hand was stood between the adults and Judith. When Carol reached for the knife, Lizzie dropped it and whipped out her gun, pointing it at Carol.

"No, no, no, we have to wait! I need to show you, you'll see, you'll finally get it. We have to wait."

Right now, Georgie only wanted to grab Judith and run. She knew there had been a reason she felt a sense of foreboding days earlier and why there was something about the preteen that unnerved her. She just wasn't right in the head. She couldn't understand how the world worked anymore and she was definitely a danger to her own self and others, as was now very obvious.

"Put the gun down," Tyreese commanded, quietly and calmly.

"I just want us to wait," Lizzie pleaded, looking over at him.

"We can wait. We can wait," Georgie's voice cracked, forcing herself not to be cry and look to visibly upset.

"You just give me the gun," Carol added as she reached her hand out toward Lizzie. "We can wait, I swear."

Lizzie hesitated for a few moments before passing the weapon off to the older woman, and all three adults let out a subtle sigh of relief.

"You, Georgie and Tyreese should take Judith back," Carol continued. "It's not safe for her."

"Judith can change, too. I was just about to—"

"She can't even walk yet," Georgie cut in.

Lizzie looked at her, considered, and then nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

"So, you three will take Judith back to the house and we'll have lunch, and I'll just…I'll just tie Mika up, you know, just so she won't go anywhere," Carol lied.

"Promise that's what you'll do?" Lizzie asked, bringing her attention back toward her 'adoptive' mother.

"Mmhmm," Carol nodded. "I promise. I'll use her shoelaces."

It was so painfully obvious Carol was lying through her teeth, but Lizzie didn't seem to understand that. She didn't seem to understand a lot of things at this point. Georgie glanced at Tyreese who looked as if he breathed the wrong way the shit would hit the fan even more than it already had. He actually looked quite terrified of Lizzie in a way. Georgie wasn't scared of the girl in general, just the threat she posed to Judith now, and all she wanted was to get that baby girl far away from Lizzie by any means possible. Lizzie just wasn't right in the head.

Carol looked to Tyreese, and then she looked to Georgie; the latter seeming less likely to turn into petrified stone. Tyreese was this big, strong man but he was clearly uneasy to go near Lizzie and looked like he wanted to bolt as far away from her as possible. Slowly, he took steps toward Judith and picked her up and Georgie made the wary approach toward Lizzie, placing a hand on her shoulders to lead her away toward the house.

"C'mon," Georgie spoke, as motherly as she could to the girl, while throwing a brief glance back over her shoulder at Carol. "Let's go, Lizzie."

* * *

A short time later, Carol returned into the house, wiping her knife off and it was obvious to both Georgie and Tyreese that she had taken care of Mika so she wouldn't come back as a walker as Lizzie had hoped. Tyreese had still been too unnerved by the older sister, so Georgie left him to hold onto Judith while she had taken Lizzie to her room. The girl had sat down on her bed, which she had been sharing with Mika for the last couple of nights, and gave the room a quick but thorough search for any other weapons. When it seemed safe, she asked Lizzie, with a smile, to stay put for a while. Tyreese had gone into the room afterward to give a second look around.

They really couldn't afford not to play it safe.

Now, in the kitchen, Carol sat at the table and Tyreese handed Judith off toward Georgie's waiting arms. Carol was shaken, with dry tears stained to her face.

"I brought her some food," Georgie commented quietly, rubbing Judith's back soothingly. "I cleared out her room; I made sure she didn't have any knives or anything like that." No one was saying anything else and Georgie felt she needed to tell them about what she _had_ found. "She has a shoebox full of mice." This was something she had mentioned to Tyreese before Carol returned.

"I asked if she was the one that's been feeding the walkers back at the prison," he spoke. "That was her." Carol looked defeated at this revelation. Tyreese continued, "At the tombs, I found this rat; pulled apart and nailed to a board. That was her, too. She said she was just having fun."

"Jesus," Georgie muttered.

"I was thinking, maybe she killed Karen and David. But I don't know how she could drag them away."

Georgie and Carol made eye contact. Carol shook her head, "She would've let them turn. It wasn't her."

"So, what do we do?" Tyreese wondered, looking between both women.

Georgie placed her lips against the side of Judith's head. "Well, we can't leave her out of our sight. No matter where she goes, one of us needs to be with her at all times. And she should not be near Judith."

Carol looked back up, casting her eyes toward Georgie, and then to Tyreese. "I could leave with her," she suggested. "Georgie's right about keeping her away from Judith. We can't sleep with her and Judith under the same roof."

Tyreese almost looked hurt. "You wouldn't make it…out on your own."

"She could," Georgie insisted, eyeing him. Then, to Carol, "But we don't want you to make that choice."

"She can't be around other people," Carol asserted.

Tyreese wasn't convinced with the idea of Carol going off with Lizzie. "Maybe we could try and help her; talk her back somehow."

"This is how she is." Tears were welling back up in Carol's eyes and Georgie found herself feeling overwhelmed by emotion as well. "It was already there. I didn't see it."

"How could you?" Tyreese questioned gently; there was no accusation in his tone. It was merely sympathetic.

"I _should_ have seen it," Carol cut him off, angry at herself.

"So maybe we go." He looked between himself and Georgie. "Me and Judith."

"No, you won't make it either."

"I could go with them," Georgie offered. As much of a friend she saw in Carol and no matter how indebted she felt toward her for showing up on the road when she did, she felt, aside from hoping to find her son out there in the world still, that Judith had now become her priority. If that meant leaving Carol behind to help protect Judith with Tyreese, then that was the path she was willing to take now.

Carol didn't respond right away. Nothing seemed to sound like the right solution. "She can't be around other people."

Looking between both Tyreese and Georgie, Carol seemed able to get them on the same wavelength as her. They realized what Carol meant and what had to be done, though Georgie was less accepting of it. Georgie shook her head, muttered 'no' at first, and turned her back on the other two to walk over to the window.

It all looked so peaceful outside, as if everything was fine.

The sky was blue, the sun was shining; it was a beautiful day. Only aesthetically, though. No amount of peace and quiet and picturesque pastoral scenery could change the fact that the day was one of their worst days in a long while. Not even losing their respective adult counterparts – their lovers and/or friends – compared to losing one child and the prospect of having to end the life of another because she was a danger to herself and others; who could no longer survive in this world.

"I can't…" Georgie trailed, tears rolling down her face. She hadn't known Lizzie but a few days, not even a week, but didn't feel she could be party to killing a child; one who wasn't already dead and due to reanimate as a walker. "I'm sorry. I just…"

"You don't have to," Carol assured, standing up and wiping the tears from her eyes. "She's my responsibility."

Tyreese frowned. "She's _all_ our responsibility now."

"No," Carol shook her head. "I made a promise to her father before he died that I would take care of his daughters and I failed at that." She pushed her chair into the table and ran a hand through her short hair as Georgie turned around to look at her. "I have to be the one to take care of this."

Carol left the kitchen then. Tyreese and Georgie could hear her open the door to Lizzie's room. The older female was in there for a few moments and when she returned Lizzie was with her, looking none the wiser. Georgie couldn't look at her. She couldn't face the girl, despite what she had done and the threat she still posed, and watch her go off unknowingly to her own death. Instead, Georgie looked out the window, pretending to entertain Judith.

"We're gonna go for a nice walk," Carol announced. "We'll be back in a little while."

"Be safe," Tyreese spoke. He obviously didn't dare to say something like 'have fun' and 'bye' was too funereal, even if Lizzie was unaware of Carol's actual motive for the walk.

"We will," Lizzie smiled.

She and Carol walked out of the house, down off the porch and began to head across the property toward the thick of the trees beyond that dilapidated barn. Tyreese joined Georgie at the window and took her hand in his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Neither said a word.

Even when they watched as Carol pointed her gun and fired a shot at the back of Lizzie's head, neither said a word.

Tyreese turned and stepped away from the window.

Georgie just stood there, holding Judith close.

* * *

Carol and Tyreese buried the girls later one while Georgie remained inside with Judith, feeding her some of the pecan butter she had made earlier. Judith seemed to like it, probably because of the sweetness added from the brown sugar she'd used. All kids love sugar and doubted the baby girl had ever had any before; having been born after the world had fallen to hell and whatnot. Judith was sat on her lap and Georgie was staring at the fire in the fireplace that Tyreese had started after he had left the window. The flames licked at the wood, crackling and popping. Despite the heat outside, the heat from the fire was soothing and staring at them was a welcome distraction.

When the pair outside came back into the house, Georgie told them she was going to bed early and was going to pull the crib inside there as well to keep Judith close.

Carol nodded, as did Tyreese and both bid Georgie goodnight.

However, Georgie could not fall right to sleep. Neither could Judith it seemed. Georgie laid on her side, staring at Judith who was looking up at the ceiling, sucking the fingers on one of her hands.

Georgie smiled.

It was something as simple as that that made her heart ache less.

Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, closer to the crib, Georgie reached a hand out and stuck it through the wooden slats, offering a finger to Judith. The baby girl turned her head at the gesture and reached out. Wrapping her tiny, chubby fingers around Georgie's one, Judith held on tight.

It was almost as if she could sense something had changed; as if she could sense the loss of the sisters and holding Georgie's fingers was comfort for them both.

* * *

The next morning, Georgie woke to Tyreese giving her shoulder a gentle shake. She rolled onto her back and looked up to see that he was holding Judith in one arm.

"What's up?" she asked groggily.

"Carol and I talked last night, about a few things." He seemed solemn, and not just because of what happened with Lizzie and Mika not even twenty-four hours before. "We agreed we can't stay here any longer."

Georgie sat up and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, okay. No, I don't think we should be her anymore either." She looked out the window which, in the light of daybreak, had a clear view of the three small graves outside. "This is a graveyard now."

"We packed up the food and filled the canteen and some other containers with water from the well," he continued. "Some clean dishcloths Carol figured we could use as diapers for this one." Tyreese gave Judith a slight bounce in his arms. "We think it's best to continue on and look for that safe haven."

"Terminus," Georgie uttered.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Let me just…gather my knife and my gun. I had hid them yesterday from…" She trailed off.

"I know." It was sympathetic, his tone, once more; again proving he was just a big ol' teddy bear. "It's on the table, waiting for ya. We'll be outside on the porch waiting for ya…when you're ready."

Georgie nodded and Tyreese left the room with Judith. Getting up to her feet, she wandered over to the dresser on the other side of the room and picked up the brush that had been left there by the house's former occupants. Her thick, red curls were more unruly than usual, so she used the brush to try and reign those curls in somewhat. Scouring the top of the dresser, she opened what she thought was a jewelry box, but inside found hair ties and bobby pins instead.

She couldn't help but smile.

Georgie took all the hair ties out and put them on her wrists except for one, which she used to pull her hair off her shoulders and tie it up into a haphazard bun. Picking up the brush again, she walked out of the bedroom with it and went into the kitchen where, sure enough, her hunting knife and her handgun were sitting upon the table. She stuck the knife back into its sheath, the gun back into her back pocket and then walked out of the kitchen without a second thought. Carol was standing at the porch railing, looking down at the ground and holding Judith's diaper bag in one hand. Georgie shoved the brush into the bag and then removed the baby carrier from Tyreese's back, and put it on her front so that Judith was facing her when she also took the baby from him.

The three looked at each other and with a silent nod of their heads in agreement, walked off the porch together and left the grove behind.

On the tracks once more, the walker that had fallen into the hole, who Lizzie had been feeding mice to, was still there; still groaning and struggling to move to no avail. They could've killed him and put him out of his misery, but Lizzie's words echoed in their ears.

Sometimes they had to kill them.

Sometimes they didn't.


	5. Terminus

"_Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven."_ – Tryon Edwards

* * *

After traveling all day on the tracks, with few breaks to rest, the trio and Judith finally took refuge among trees, away from the tracks for the sake of cover, when night fell. Since Tyreese and Carol hadn't slept as long as Georgie the night before, all things considered, Georgie opted for the first watch. Tyreese and Carol lay down on the ground on either side of her while Carol curled Judith up against her as well.

Seated with her legs bent and her knees pulled up close to her chest, Georgie rested her arms atop her knees while holding her hunting knife in her right hand; prepared to use it at a moment's notice. The world around them was quiet and things just felt a little off. It had only been five days since she had first met Tyreese, Lizzie and Mika, and it had been one week since meeting Carol on the road. Five days _before_ Carol, she had lost every single person in her previous group. That had been twelve people, not including her. Twelve people had died when a herd of walkers came out of the woods and she was the only survivor. Her friend Dana and Dana's two children had been among those losses and Georgie felt guilt over surviving. She hadn't been the one keeping watch when the attack began, but she had been away from the group to go to the bathroom. She couldn't help but beat herself up over it; that maybe if she hadn't gone off for those few minutes, she could've done something more and her people would be alive right now. Instead, she had to return to the sounds of their screams and bodies being torn apart by the hungry dead.

Staring out into the darkness of the woods, the moon up above, which was fuller than days prior, went unnoticed to her. Her eyes were adjusted enough to the darkness, though, that she had no problem seeing if something moved nearby. And, aside from the snoring come from the exhausted pair on either side of her, all was silent enough that Georgie could also hear if anything approached.

It was quite possible that several hours had gone by, judging by the fact that the woods seemed brighter, when Georgie finally heard something shuffling a few yards up on the tracks. Climbing quietly to her feet, she walked off to inspect and spied three walkers coming from the direction she, Carol and Tyreese had been headed.

Quickly, she went up to them and stabbed one in the head, and the other two were hasty enough to react. They turned upon her and reach their rotting arms out toward her, biting at air. She kicked one back a couple of feet to by herself some time so she could stab the other in the skull. The last one grabbed onto her arm and she swung it to the ground and backed up, making sure it hadn't scratched her in the process. When she had determined she was perfectly okay, she jumped forward with her boot and stomped on that last walker's face with renewed vigor. She even gave a slight twist of her foot for good measure.

Stepping back to inspect her handiwork, Georgie reached down and rolled each walker over and off the tracks. She remained crouched down near their level for a few moments, letting different thoughts roll around her head before standing back up.

Georgie turned around and walked back toward the others when she noticed Tyreese was awake, though still lying down as he looked over at her approaching. When she got closer, he sat up and gave her a nod of his head.

"Were you saying a prayer over them or something?"

"Huh?" Georgie looked over her shoulders at the three walkers she put down and then back to Tyreese. "Oh, no…I was just…I dunno. Thinking."

"About the girls?"

"A little bit of them," she replied. "A little bit of everything, really."

Tyreese leaned his back and his head up against a narrow tree trunk. "I hear ya."

"What are _you_ thinking about?" Georgie took a seat across from him. Since he was up and staring in the direction she had been previously, she chose to situate herself facing the opposite. They had better coverage that way.

"Did Carol tell you that she killed my girlfriend Karen and another guy named David when they got sick?"

Georgie hesitated. "Yeah, she told me after we first met, when she was explaining why she'd left the prison; how it hadn't been her choice." Georgie stuck her knife in the ground, aimlessly drawing in the dirt. "I promised her I wouldn't say anything to you. It was her secret to tell, not mine."

Tyreese accepted this information. "I forgave her," he spoke. "I know now that Karen wouldn't have gotten better, and Carol made sure it was quick; that they didn't suffer. I just…can't forget it though."

"We're not meant to forget losing people we care about. I think that would be worse than having no one we care about, or love, to lose," she remarked. "What's that saying – it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Right?"

Tyreese nodded. "I suppose so. It'd be a hell of a lot easier though with the loss."

"Well, duh." Georgie smirked.

Silence fell between them for a while.

"You think we're closer to Terminus?" he wondered.

"We gotta be."

"We still haven't seen any more signs, though."

"Well," Georgie muttered. "That track has to run out eventually and, when it does, it'll lead us somewhere; whether it's turns out to be Terminus or someplace else."

"I wonder if the others who got out of the prison have seen similar signs."

"Maybe."

"Maybe they're there, waiting."

"Maybe," Georgie repeated herself.

"I hope they're safe," Tyreese continued. "And if my sister is there, then…even better."

Georgie stared at the ground. "I'd like to hope my son is there."

Tyreese smiled ruefully at her. "You still hoping he made it away from that Cub Scout camping trip?"

She had since told him about what had happened to her when the outbreak happened, and her losses, same as he did about what him and his sister Sasha had been through; living in a neighbor's underground bunker for seven months in their native Jacksonville, traveling for weeks with a much larger group which made it north to Georgia, "working" as a guard in The Governor's Woodbury, and then defecting to the prison with several others, which included Sasha, Karen and David.

"I have to," Georgie finally answered. "It's the only thing that's keeping me going." Then, glancing toward Carol and Judith, she added, "Well, it _was_ the only thing. Then I met that little girl and she melted my heart."

Tyreese grinned brightly, following Georgie's gaze. "Yeah, she does that." After a few more moments of silence, he looked back at Georgie and nudged her foot with his. "I'm up now. Why don't you catch a few hours of sleep before we're on the move again?"

"Yeah, okay."

Without another word, Georgie rolled onto her side and used her arm as a pillow. Closing her eyes, she let the thoughts in her head slowly fade away as she eventually lost her fight with consciousness.

* * *

Once morning had broken, Georgie was up and awake simply from a random ray of light shining at the right angle through the canopy of leaves and focusing right on her closed eyelids. Sitting up, she found Tyreese was now holding Judith and feeding her from the last jar of actual baby food from the diaper bag. Carol was still asleep, but facing away from them.

"Morning," Tyreese greeted.

"That it is."

"I was thinking we should find a stream or something soon, to clean the soiled cloths we're using as diapers for her."

"We can't put the clean ones on her if their wet. It could give her a chill and make her sick."

"There's still a couple of clean cloths we haven't used yet in the bag," he assured. "Wish we had soap to clean the dirty ones with, though."

"If wishes were horses," Georgie smirked.

She finally sat up and crawled over to Carol to wake her up. When the older woman stirred and sat up, she excused herself for a few moments to go to the bathroom behind a bush nearby. When she returned, the three adults took a few swigs of water from the canteen and shared a handful of toasted pecans they had brought with them from the grove, along with sharing a can of clam chowder which, in truth, tasted a bit spoiled. It was enough to sustain them for a while, though, and that's what matter, even if their stomachs may disagree with them later.

Soon enough they were on the tracks again and Carol spotted the three walkers Georgie had taken care of in the early hours of morning, but made no comment about it. The sound of cicadas provided the soundtrack to their journey and, as the morning progressed, Tyreese took the lead on the tracks while Carol and Georgie walked side by side; the latter yet again carrying Judith.

By noontime, they had finally come upon a sign for Terminus.

"We're close," Carol stated the obvious. "I'm gonna get the three of you there, make sure you're safe, but I'm not gonna stay."

Tyreese was giving the sign a proper looksee when Georgie snapped her head toward Carol. Tyreese looked more slowly at her, accepting this decision, while Georgie felt a little betrayed. In a week's time, Carol had become a good friend and confidant, more or less the only family she had. The idea of separating from her now felt like losing her to death. However, Georgie didn't say anything. She couldn't force Carol to stay. If the older woman felt the need to leave them, Georgie would have to find a way to get past it.

Also, the shuffling of a walker coming out of the woods distracted either of them from conversing further on the subject.

The walker was a little different from most they encountered; not because it was decaying in a way they'd never seen before, but because it had a handcuff on one hand. It just seemed like a strange thing. At least to Georgie, it did.

Tyreese and Carol looked at each other and he shook his head. "I can't. Not yet."

Carol just stared at him. "You're gonna hafta be," she grumbled as she walked toward the walker with her knife. As she stabbed it in the head, she tumbled down to the tracks with it. As soon as she sat back up, that's when she noticed the large herd of walkers not far off, coming toward them, and she whispered, "More."

She got to her feet and ran over to Tyreese and Georgie. Tyreese picked up Carol's bag and handed it back to her as the three of them and Judith got off the tracks and began to dart through the trees on the opposite side. They crouched down behind some trees and earth; waiting to see if the walkers would continue on the tracks, but the walkers instead crossed the tracks and began to approach the direction the trio and Judith had gone to hide.

Just as they were about to jump up and continue to run away, a rapid succession of gunfire in the distance distracted the walkers. They dead turned toward the noise, which also piqued the curiosities of the trio, and headed back along the tracks toward the sound.

Georgie, Tyreese and Carol remained hidden with Judith while they watched the walkers leave. Then, when the coast was clear, they wandered out of the woods and looked in the direction of Terminus; where the sounds of gunfire originated and where the walkers had gone off toward.

"That gunfire," Tyreese spoke. "It could've come from Terminus."

"Someone was attacking them, or they were attacking someone," Carol suggested.

"Either way, it doesn't sound as if Terminus is such a safe haven after all," added Georgie, as she shifted Judith around from one hip to the other.

"Do we even wanna find out?" Tyreese wondered.

Carol nodded. "Yeah. There's another track due east that'll get us there." She looked back at Tyreese and Georgie. "We'll be real careful. We're gonna get answers."

* * *

Once off the track and cutting through the woods, they came upon a hunting shack. Parked in front of the hunting shack were a dusty car and a man in a baseball cap, setting up some sort of bottle rocket and talking to someone on a walkie-talkie about a woman with a sword and a kid in a hat.

"…Yeah, I told Albert I want the kid's hat after they bleed him out."

Silent as the grave, Carol crept up behind the man and pressed her revolver against the back of his head. His hands went up in initial surrender. "Keep your finger off the button and drop it," Carol demanded as he let the walkie-talkie to the ground.

"Listen, y'all don't hafta do this," he insisted. "Whatever ya want; we got a place where everyone's welcome."

"Shut up, man," Tyreese remarked.

"Okay."

"We're friends with the chick with the sword and the kid with the hat."

* * *

Tyreese had bound the man's hands with rope they found and led him into the shack where he now sat.

"They attacked us. We're just holding them," the man insisted.

"I don't believe you," Carol replied.

"Who else do you have?" Tyreese asked. "Do you have their names?"

"We just have the boy and the samurai, that's it. We were just protecting ourselves."

"I don't believe you," Carol repeated, digging through his bag.

"There's a bunch of us out there in six different directions. There was a lot of gunfire back home. We need to set off our charges all at the same time to confuse the dead ones away. That's good for you, too."

"No, it isn't." Carol zipped up the bag and looked at the man. "There's a herd heading toward Terminus right now. We don't want to confuse them away. We're gonna need their help."

"It's a compound. They'll see you coming…if you even make it that far with all the cold bodies heading over."

Georgie handed Judith off to Tyreese as he stopped Carol who had thrown the man's bag over her shoulder. Whatever Carol had planned, Georgie was going with her. She felt confident that Tyreese could keep Judith safe and a watchful eye on the bound man.

"Carol, how you two gonna do this?"

"We're gonna kill some people," she replied, looking over to Georgie who pulled her gun from out of her back pocket.

With a nod, Georgie followed Carol out of the hunting shack as Tyreese shut the door behind them.

* * *

"We need to get past those walkers," Carol remarked once they had made it away from the hunting shack and we nearer to Terminus.

Georgie sighed, pressing her lips together. "Well, there is one way. It's disgusting, but I've had to do it before and it worked."

"What?"

Gesturing toward a lone walker, Georgie stepped past Carol without a word and put the walker down with her knife to its head. Once it dropped, she pointed at the poncho it was wearing.

"Put that on," she said. "Then we cover ourselves with its blood and guts. It'll mask our scent and the others won't be any the wiser. I'll wear its jacket over my shirt."

"Well, that is definitely disgusting, but it a very good idea."

And that is exactly what they did.

Carol pulled its poncho off and put it over her head, and then Georgie shimmied its jacket off, which smelled worse and made her gag a few times as she slid it on. Using her knife, Georgie slice open the walker's chest and the two women looked at each other briefly before digging right in, pulling the innards out and wiping it all over the walker's clothes they were now wearing. They covered their hands, arms and faces, while careful to keep the blood away from their eyes, nostrils and mouths. Carol went even further by rubbing it into her hair, whereas Georgie simply put the hood the jacket up over her head to hide her hair.

Satisfied with their appearance and new, nauseating odor, the pair continued on through the woods in the direction of Terminus. They wandered casually among the several walkers around them, alerting none.

When they reached the Terminus compound's chain-link perimeter fence, they looked down to see men, bound and gagged, being dragged away by other men who we clearly friends of the man back at the hunting shack.

"That's Rick," Carol pointed, to the man with the beard who was the first to be dragged away. "And that's Daryl, the one with the angel wings vest." The other two she pointed out as Glenn and Bob."

"Bob?" Georgie perked when she narrowed her gaze upon the black man. "Bob Stookey?"

Carol looked at her and nodded. "Yeah. You know him?"

"The first group I was in, he was a part of it, too," Georgie explained. "We got overrun by walkers and we all scattered like leaves on the wind. The few of us that survived together, we assumed he died with the rest."

"Huh, small world."

"Tell me about it."

The women began to move around part of the fence for a better view and angle as they watched the four men dragged into one of main buildings. Carol set the Terminus resident's bag down and removed one of the automatic rifles from underneath the poncho. Georgie picked up the other rifle and held onto it as she waited for Carol to make the first move.

Using the scope on the rifle, Carol mentioned something about the large propane tank and continued to scan the area just as she dropped the rifle down and when the herd of walkers finally made their appearance. Georgie opened the bag and pulled out a firework.

"What do I do with this?"

"Firework," Georgie commented, holding it up to Carol. "Gun." She shoved the firework it into the barrel of the gun she was holding. Then, she pointed in the direction of the propane tank. "Boom."

Carol flashed a small and brief grin. "You never used to be a pyro or anything, did you?"

"Well, I _am_ a Leo, and that's a fire sign, so…"

Carol quickly went about propping the firework-end of the rifle through one of the links in the fence before picking up the automatic rifle again. Aiming at the tank, she fired three shots until propane began to spill out. Georgie then whipped out a lighter and lit the fuse on the firework. Both of them turned, covering their ears, as the firework shot off toward the breach and set off a massive explosion.

Georgie couldn't help but let out a small, but victorious laugh at the sight of the fireball, walkers flying away in bits, followed by a large plume of black smoke.

That was definitely the distraction they would need.

Jumping up to their feet, Carol grabbed the bag and they each grabbed their respective rifles. They made it down toward the area where the walkers were still making their way into the compound, having fit right in among them since they still stunk like walkers. Quietly, they ambled along, careful not to draw attention to themselves as they neared the buildings which were being slowly overrun by several burnt and charred walkers. Some Terminus residents were running away, some were getting eaten alive by walkers, and others were firing shots at the walkers.

Just as the herd Carol and Georgie were walking with was being gradually taken down by shooters on a roof somewhere, Carol pulled Georgie toward one of the buildings to take cover before whipping out her rifle from underneath the poncho again. She aimed it at a Terminus resident in the distance and fired a single shot into his head, followed by multiple rounds at the shooter on the roof.

The sound began to draw walkers to them, so Georgie grabbed Carol and pulled her inside the building, closing them in, just in the nick of time.

* * *

Georgie stepped into a room with folding tables set up and a multitude of different items covering them. There were backpacks, clothes, hats, stuffed animals, blankets, toiletry items, jewelry and even weapons. Everything was neatly placed, almost like you would find set up at a garage sale or some sort of clothing and other essentials drive for the homeless.

"What the hell is this place?"

Carol shrugged and shook her head as she entered into the room behind Georgie. She walked over to a table with watches; picking one of them up and pocketing it before spying the weapons across from her. Georgie was already there, sorting through a few of the knives. When Carol snatched up the crossbow, Georgie gave her a look.

"Whose is that?"

"Daryl's," Carol answered.

"Does any other this other stuff belong to your people?"

"I don't know."

As Carol threw the crossbow over her shoulder, Georgie grabbed one of the extra hunting knives and pocketed it into the loop on her belt, on the opposite side of her body where her own hunting knife was sheathed. Carol had already moved onward, away from the loot, so Georgie quickly followed after while gunshots outside could be heard still ringing out.

The next room they came upon was large and felt strange.

There were tons of candles little all over the place; on the floor, on tables and shelving, hanging from the ceiling and some ensconced on the walls, where words were painted, stating, 'Never Again. Never Trust. We First, Always.'

"Well, this isn't unsettling," Georgie quipped, sarcastically. She had pulled her rifle out and had it aimed, scoping the room out as Carol moved around the candles on the floor, stepping on the names painted there in white. Letting her gaze follow Carol's form, Georgie began the same trek through the candles.

"Drop your weapons and turn around," came a woman's voice and the click of a gun behind them.

Georgie and Carol stopped in place.

"I wanna see your faces," the woman continued, angrily.

Several feet away was a door that led back outside. Light was shining underneath and walkers were banging at it, their dead groans just as raspy at ever.

"Now!" the woman shouted when Georgie and Carol hadn't reacted fast enough.

Carol removed the crossbow from her shoulder and rifle, setting them to the ground, and Georgie did the same with her rifle as well. She was more hesitant on her knives. However, just as Carol made like she was about to remove something else, she grabbed her rifle back up and spun around, emptying a few shots at the woman.

"No!" the woman screamed, her gun flying out of her hands as she fell to the ground.

Georgie took the opportunity to pick her rifle back up. She was able to kick the woman's gun out of the way of her reach while Carol ran over to the woman, who stood up enough to try and tackle Carol. One of the tall candelabras got knocked over in the process, its candles scattering across the floor, as Carol and the woman were soon tussling on the floor as well; the woman trying to get Carol's rifle away from her. They were up again and down again, knocking over more candle displays.

When they were both finally up again and the woman had grabbed something to hopefully bash Carol's head in, Carol had her gun poised and ready to shoot at the woman's head. Before Carol could pull the trigger, however, the woman sighed, visibly saddened.

"The signs? They were real," the woman spoke. "it _was_ a sanctuary. People came and took this place."

"Just tell me whe—" Carol tried to interrupt.

"And they raped," the woman continued, "and they killed, and they laughed, over weeks. But we got out, and we fought, and we got it back. And we heard the message." The woman looked as if she was going to drop right there from a mental breakdown as tears of anguish brimmed her eyes.

"Which was?" Georgie inquired, not sure she wanted an answer.

"You're the butcher, or you're the cattle."

It began to sink in; the belongings in the other room. Georgie's stomach soured and she steeled herself.

"The men they pulled from that train car: where are they?" Carol demanded.

The woman wouldn't respond so Georgie aimed her rifle and shot the woman in the leg, dropping her to the floor in pain like a sack of potatoes.

Carol seemed unperturbed by the move as she shouted, "Where are they?"

"Now, point it at my head," the woman said to Georgie, who still had her rifle aimed at her. The woman chuckled. "You could've been one of us," she said to both Georgie and Carol. "You could've listened to what the world is telling you."

"You lead people here and you take what they have and you kill them? Is that what this place is?" Carol questioned, her own rifle aimed at the woman as well.

"No, not at first," the woman shook her head. "It's what it had to be. And we're still here."

Carol lowered her rifle. "You're not here, and neither are we." She picked up the crossbow and gave a nod to Georgie.

They were done here, with this woman.

"C'mon," Carol said, and the two of them turned and walked off toward that outer door.

Carol opened the door and they both stood back as the walkers filtered in right past them without a second glance and headed straight for the woman on the floor, who began shouting out. Carol and Georgie slipped out into the sunlight, leaving the woman to be devoured alive.

* * *

Once they had made it out of Terminus and back up into the trees where they'd left the bag, Georgie had to drop down to her knees for a moment and catch her breath while Carol stared off at the burning, overrun scene that was now what was left of the compound.

"Do you realize what was going on there?" Georgie asked. "They were killing people and taking their things, sure, okay. But where were the bodies? The walkers that showed up were led here, they weren't already here."

Carol didn't answer, she just looked away and got down to her knees as well, pulling off the poncho and wiping the dried walker blood off her face and out of her hair as best as she could.

"I thought I'd seen everything," Georgie muttered, mirroring Carol. She removed the walker's jacket and used the inside of the hood, which was the most clean, to wipe the dried blood from her face and arms. "They were fucking cannibals back there, weren't they?"

Both women caught each other's eye. Carol didn't have to nod or verbally respond to know she was certain what Georgie had deduced was true.

"My people will run. They'll head here into the woods for cover and get their bearings," Carol remarked. "We should find them."

"What about Tyreese and Judith?"

"We'll go back to them afterward, with the others. Rick will want to see his daughter."

Georgie gave a nod of her head. "Alright," she agreed. "Lead the way."

* * *

It was only minutes of walking through the woods, following the sound of voices nearby. It had been easy, really. It was hard to miss a group so large, among the trees, that weren't walkers. Carol approached first, slowly and warily. Georgie knew about her reservations, how the older woman had left things with her group's leader and how the others probably knew what she did. But considering what she and Carol had just done, Georgie was certain Carol would be welcomed back into their good graces.

The closer the two women got, the group sensed them.

The man with shaggy, dark hair and the leather angel wings vest turned his head first. The moment he noticed Carol walking up, it was as if everything bad in his life fell away. He ran to Carol without hesitation and pulled her into his arm, hugging her tight. Both were smiling to happily and the gesture made Georgie's heart swell.

Considering everything that had experienced together recently, they more than needed some good moments.

The others in the group smiled brightly; giving Georgie the impression that maybe they hadn't known after all what Carol had done back at the prison. The leader, Rick, smiled as well and moved forward. Clearly, all was forgiven and forgotten in his eyes. While he and the boy in the Sheriff's hat Georgie assumed was Rick's son Carol, as well as a woman with short brown hair approached Carol, Georgie spotted Bob standing among the others. She caught his eye and waved and his eyes widened with surprise. The pair moved closer toward one another with smiles on their faces.

"Georgie?"

"Bob," she greeted. She went right up to him and hugged him.

It was always nice to see a familiar, friendly face.

"I thought you died," he said.

"I thought you died, too," she replied with a laugh. "When we got overrun all those months back, me and a few others got away."

"You did? We must've run off in opposite directions," he deduced. "I just thought everyone in our group died."

"No, a few of us made it and we eventually found more people. We even found a house for the winter."

Bob nodded. "That's good, that's _great._ I'm glad you survived."

"Me, too." Georgie stepped back from Bob and looked back over at Carol. "I wouldn't have gotten very far recently without Carol, though."

They both looked over toward Carol who had just finally stopped hugging Daryl as Rick came up to her. Georgie took a few steps nearer to the older woman, out of instinct.

"Did you do that?" Rick asked, gesturing slightly with his head in the direction of Terminus.

Carol couldn't find the words. Tears were stinging her eyes, so all she managed to do was nod as Rick pulled her into a hug of his own.

"You have to come with me," she finally said when Rick released her.

Georgie smiled, knowing why.

* * *

The group, now including Carol and Georgie, walked off down a road, and approached the hunting shack to find Tyreese walking out of it. He was closing the door behind him, Judith in one arm and her diaper bag in the other.

When Rick spotted his daughter, he dropped everything and ran. Carl, too.

Tyreese handed the child over to her father, and in turn enveloped his approaching sister into a big hug. The others smiled over the happy reunions and Georgie found herself tearing up over it all. What Rick was experiencing right now was what she could only hope for and she was happy for him and his son to have their little family back together.

After the initial reunion, while they were finally all able to catch their breaths, literally and figuratively, Carol and Georgie approached Tyreese. There were a few walkers, completely dead or impaled, scattered around the property.

"What happened?" Carol asked.

"There were a bunch of walkers out here and he got his hands around Judith's neck," Tyreese replied. Carol and Georgie both shot apprehensive looks at the hunting shack. "No, he's dead. I—I had to. So I did. I could."

"I don't know if the fire is still burning," Rick spoke, looking off, beyond the tree tops, at the sight of dark smoke billowing up into the sky.

"It is," Georgie assured.

Rick looked back at her briefly, the first time either made eye contact with each other. "Yeah," he agreed, looking back at the smoke. "We need to go."

"Yeah, but where?" Daryl asked.

"Somewhere far away from there."

* * *

Back on the tracks, the group of sixteen people, which included Georgie, found their way onto the tracks, with their respective weapons and other minor belongings in hand, passing the sign for Terminus.

While most walked single file, some walked two by two; Carol and Daryl, Tyreese and Sasha, and Georgie and Bob. The latter were playing catch up. Then there was Rick who, for whatever reason, Georgie sensed was not with the group. She looked long enough over her shoulder to see him dip a dirty piece of cloth into some tacky walker blood on the track and write something over the Terminus sign. Whatever it was, she didn't know.

Georgie turned back and looked forward.


	6. Survivors

**Author's Note: This chapter takes place during the season 5 episode, 'Strangers' and what dialogue is from there is not mine, though once again I gave lines spoken by others to Georgie, as well as worked her into the scenes as well. I will continue to do this from here on out so this is my last author's note in regard to it. ;)**

* * *

"_More than most, I know the pain of surviving." _― Ann Aguirre, _Aftermath_

* * *

After walking for a while in the woods, the group chose to take a break.

Georgie sat alone against a tree, looking over at Judith who was being fed a bottle of water by her big brother. Their father, Rick, sat with them, before standing up to say something to one of the younger women whose name Georgie hadn't got yet. She watched how they exchanged a few words and then even bumped fists. The gesture seemed to make them both smile.

Hell, it even made Georgie smile.

Turning her attention back toward Carl and Judith, Georgie decided to stand up and walk over to them and sit back down. "There's some pecan butter in her bag here," she informed. She went ahead and opened the back out, pulling out one of the baby food jars she had repurposed for the pecan butter. "She seems to have liked it so far."

That was when Rick turned and crouched down with them.

"You've been with Carol." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I have," she replied. She looked him in the eye briefly and then down at the jar in her hands, twisting the cap off. "Then we found Tyreese and we found shelter in this house." She left out the bit about Lizzie and Mika. It was just too rough to talk about. "There was a ton of pecans all around. Carol toasted them up one night and the next day I attempted to make this pecan butter. Baby food for Judith was running low so I thought I could throw something together that was edible and filling enough for her."

"I was wondering what that stuff was."

"It's surprisingly good." With the cap off, she offered some to Carl to taste, who took a fingertip's worth and popped it in his mouth. When he seemed to like it, he nodded at his father and then Georgie offered some to Rick as well. He hesitated and then dipped a finger in. "It's just toasted pecans I crushed into a powder, oil, vanilla extract and brown sugar. It's not thick like actual butter, more like grainy syrup, but it does the trick."

"It is good," Rick remarked. "Thank you, and not just for the pecan butter syrup whatever." He grinned appreciatively. "For keeping my daughter safe."

Georgie shrugged and handed the jar to Carl. "I'm a mom," she remarked. "It's instinct."

Standing up, she watched as Rick's gaze followed her. She knew he had noticed no other kids other than his own with them and she knew he was quickly able to put two and two together and determine there was substantial loss in her backstory.

Instead of prying right off the bat, Rick stood with her and gave a nod of his head and offered her his hand. "Thank you again, nonetheless."

Georgie accepted his hand and shook it, both letting the gesture linger for a moment or two longer than it needed before stepping back from each other.

* * *

A few hours later, when night had fallen, and a fire was built keep the group warm, Georgie took a seat near Bob and Sasha, letting the latter know how they had each been a part of the same group a short time after the outbreak; how it had been each other's first groups and how they both had assumed the other had been killed by walkers.

Off away from the fire Carol stood with Rick, talking in hushed voices and Georgie was able to wager a solid guess as to what that conversation entailed. She didn't get to converse herself with Carol after that because the older woman had gone off with Daryl to keep watch.

By morning, the fire had been put out and the group was up and moving once more after managing to get some sleep.

They were armed with their weapons, even Georgie who had managed to resume her duty of carrying Judith. Her rifle was slung over one shoulder, her handgun still in her back pocket and her original and her new hunting knives were sheathed on both of her hips. When Daryl appeared from out of nowhere with some squirrels he caught. Rick had his gun aimed and Daryl threw his hands up before both meant walk away momentarily together to have a sidebar. Rick then whistled at the group to stay close.

The more they walked along, the more Georgie was able to get a better sense for the people she was now with. It seemed Bob and Sasha were an item and Tyreese seemed happy to know his sister was happy. Her fellow ginger, the bulldog of a man with a military haircut and handlebar mustache, whose name was Abraham, seemed to be distant toward the others except for the young woman at his die and the man with the mullet who Georgie wondered was autistic.

As their group continued on, the sounds of a man screaming from help from not too far away could be heard. Rick held up his hand for everyone to stop but Carl was urging him for them to go help whoever it was. Hesitating, Rick caved and allowed himself to be dragged away, and everyone else followed suit.

On top of a massive rock in the middle of the woods, was a preacher of some kind who was screaming for help over and over while trying to kick at the walkers who were grabbing onto his pant legs. Someone fired a shot into one of the walker's head, Michonne took one down with the butt of her gun, Rick smashed another's skull against the stone, and Carol buried her knife in third's skull. A fourth walker ambled from around the rock which Daryl used his cross bow on.

When it was clear, Rick called the man down. Sliding down the rock, the preacher looked as if he'd witness the brutal slaughter of a dozen school children rather than a few walkers. He was shaking so badly.

Georgie could help but wonder if he'd been living under a rock and was somehow not used to seeing walkers around.

"You okay?" Rick asked.

And then the preacher threw up.

"Sorry," he finally spoke, wiping his mouth and standing up straight. "Yes, thank you. I'm Gabriel."

"You have any weapons on ya?" Rick inquired.

Gabriel laughed nervously, possibly thinking Rick's question was a joke of some sort. Michonne, who was standing next to him didn't seem very amused and Gabriel took note. "Do I look like I would have any weapons?"

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like," Abraham piped up.

Clearly transferring some his fear from the walkers to the group, Gabriel replied, "I have no weapons of any kind. The word of God is the only protection I need."

"Sure didn't look like it," Daryl commented.

Gabriel smiled. "I called for help. Help came." He looked around at all the faces staring back at him. He seemed jittery and nervous again. "Do you have—have any food? Whatever I—I had left, it just hit the ground."

Something in the back of Georgie's mind gnawed at her; her mother's voice. Her parents and her sister had been more of the religious variety, while her and her brother had been the two branches in their family tree that were anything but. Still, it didn't stop her from hearing her mother's voice admonishing her for not being kind to a man of the cloth.

"We have pecans," Carl spoke up, offering a small baggie of the nuts to the preacher.

Gabriel took the baggie graciously. "Thank you," he said as he noticed Judith cooing in Georgie's arms. "That's a beautiful child." When no one reacted and still just watched him apprehensively, he asked, "Do you have a camp?"

"No," Rick replied. "Do _you_?"

Gabriel wavered. "I have a church."

"Hold your hands above your head."

Georgie shifted Judith around to her other hip and held a hand upon the back of the girl's head to hold her close as she watched the interaction unfold. Gabriel's arms went up and Rick reached forward, feeling around for any concealed weapons. Georgie then remembered Carol mention in passing how Rick had been a Sheriff Deputy before the apocalypse, which had been why it was so easy for him to fall into such a leadership role. It also explained the hat Carl wore.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked.

"Not any, actually."

"Turn around." He continued to feel around on Gabriel when the preacher turned to face the rock. "How many people have you killed?"

"None." Gabriel seemed almost offended by the second question as he looked over his shoulder back at Rick.

"Why?"

Gabriel was able to face back forward again when he responded. "Because the Lord abhors violence."

Rick didn't seem convinced. "What have you done? We've all done something."

"I'm a sinner. I sin almost every day. But those sins, I confess them to God, not strangers."

"You said you had a church?" Michonne stared at him with no judgment on her face either way.

Gabriel simply nodded.

* * *

Shortly thereafter, Gabriel led them to his church; a small, white church that somehow made Georgie think it belonged on _Little House on the Prairie_. The name on the hanging sign in front, away from the building, said the church was called St. Sarah's Episcopal. It had two red doors and, had Georgie been a churchgoer before the outbreak, she could have seen herself attending this church, simply for how picturesque it looked on the outside. It was quiet and peaceful and simple. It seemed really nice, even if its preacher was questionable.

"Hold up," Rick spoke just as Gabriel was about to unlock the doors. "Can we take a look around first? We just want to hold on to our squirrels." He held out his hand and Gabriel dropped the keys into Rick's palm.

The doors creaked open as soon as they were unlocked, and Rick, Michonne, Daryl, Glenn and Carol went inside; weapons at the ready.

"Do you think they'll find anything bad in there?" Carl wondered. The question wasn't out of any kind of fear, but mere curiosity.

Georgie shrugged. "Well, preacher man _did_ willingly lead us here with nothing to protect himself with, so I doubt it. He just seems a bit too chicken shit to have anything nasty inside."

Carl looked up at her with a smile and chuckled. "Yeah," he agreed.

After a few minutes, there came a whistle from inside the church.

Rick and Glenn appeared out of the doors first, handing the keys back to Gabriel.

"I spent months here without stepping out the front door. If you found someone inside, well, it would have been surprising."

The others filed out of the church and Rick turned back at Gabriel as Carl walked up beside his father with Georgie beside him, still holding Judith.

"Thanks for this," she said to the preacher. There, she had appeased her mother's soul by being polite. Now maybe she wouldn't hear her voice in her conscience again about churchy shit like this again.

Rick turned his attention to her and smirked a little. She caught his gaze just as Abraham approached.

"We found a short bus out back," he informed. "It don't run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Father here says he doesn't want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport."

Rick listened to this while placing his hand on Judith's head and brushed her hair back softly.

"You understand what's at stake here, right?" Abraham continued to talk.

"I do," Rick assured.

"Now that we can take a breath—" Georgie began to say.

"We take a breath, we slow down, shit inevitably goes down," Abraham cut her off.

Georgie narrowed her gaze at him and grew firmer in her tone. "We need supplies no matter what we do next."

"That's right," Rick agreed, looking at her before stepping back up into the church. "Water, food, ammunition."

"Short bus ain't going nowhere," Daryl quipped as Georgie stepped inside the church with Judith, while Carl and Michonne followed directly behind her. "Bring you back some baked beans."

Once indoors, Georgie passed Judith over to her father to give her arms a rest and to set down her weapons on one of the pews. She took a seat on one of the center aisle armrests near the front of the church, perched next to where Michonne stood. Gabriel was a couple feet away.

"How'd you survive here for so long?" Rick inquired, walking up the aisle to stand in front of the preacher man. "Where did your supplies come from?"

"Luck," Gabriel responded. "Our annual canned food drive. Things fell apart right after we finished it. It was just me."

"C'mere, Judith," Carl whispered as he approached.

Georgie smiled, watching how lovingly the big brother cared for his little sister. It reminded her of how sweet her son had always been with her daughter. A few nice memories entered her mind and she looked away toward the altar area, biting her lips together.

One day she hoped that sharp ache in her heart would dull just a little.

Closing her eyes, she just focused on the voices of everyone in the church.

"The food lasted a long time," Gabriel was still saying. "And then I started scavenging. I've cleaned out every place nearby. Except for one."

"What kept you from it?" Rick asked, still holding his rifle.

"It's overrun."

"How many?"

"A dozen or so, maybe more."

Rick nodded. "We can handle a dozen."

"Bob and I will go with you," Sasha offered. "Tyreese can stay here, help keep Judith safe."

"That'll be okay?" Rick asked of Tyreese. A big man like him would've been good help on their run.

"Sure," Tyreese nodded. "You ever need me to watch her, need anything for her, I'm right here."

"I'm grateful for it." Rick walked up to the other man and added, "And everything else."

Well, if Tyreese was staying put, then Georgie felt like she needed to contribute more than just baby-holding, as nice as it had been. "I'll come, too," she informed, as Rick glanced behind him to where she was sat on the armrest. "I'd like to help."

Rick nodded. "Yeah, sure thing. Thanks."

"I'll draw you a map," Gabriel suggested.

"You don't need to. You're coming with us."

Georgie couldn't see Gabriel's face, because his back was to her, but she could guess it was nervous and twitchy.

"I'm not gonna be of any help. You saw me. I'm no good around those things."

"You're coming with us," Rick repeated.

* * *

When supply run group made it into town, with Gabriel leading the way, Bob sidled up beside Rick. The women – Michonne, Sasha and Georgie – brought up the rear. Sasha was the one carrying the duffel bag over her shoulder for anything they managed to bring back to the church.

"When you said they don't get to live, you weren't wrong," Bob remarked. "We push ourselves and let things go. Then we let some more go and some more. And pretty soon, there's things we can't get back. Things we couldn't hold on to even if we tried. Washington's gonna happen, Rick."

"I haven't decided if we're going."

"Yeah, I know, and that's cool. But you've seen Abraham in action. He's gonna get there and Eugene's gonna cure all this and you're gonna find yourself in a place where it's like how it used to be. And if you've let too much go along the way, that's not gonna work. 'Cause you gonna be back in the real world."

"This is the real world, Bob."

"Nah. This is a nightmare, and nightmares end. I'm sorry. I'm calling it. Washington's gonna happen. You're gonna say yes. Already too much momentum. You can't fight city hall. Maybe that's just one of those parts of not letting go."

"Maybe we should focus on the now, Bob," Georgie suggested. "We can have our city hall meeting later."

Bob threw a smirk over his shoulder at her. He wasn't offended. He nodded and agreed. "Sure thing."

After weaving through a couple of back alleys and streets, they made it to the food bank, a white-washed brick building that served the whole county, according to Gabriel.

Rick was the first to head in, with his rifle raised. In the main room, where there were a few racks of clothes hanging, he held up his hand for the others to stop and wait. He walked over to a large hole in the floor where the sounds of sloshing movement could be heard. When Rick signaled for them to come nearer, the sounds of familiar raspy groans got louder, and so did the stench.

Peering down, they could see the basement had flooded and walkers were trapped down there, wandering aimlessly through the water.

"If a sewer could puke, this is what it'd smell like," Bob remarked.

"I dunno," Georgie added her two cents. "I think it would probably smell better than this."

Michonne looked up at the ceiling. "The water's been coming down that hole for a while. Slimed this place up good."

"We can use the shelves to block them," Georgie suggested.

Rick looked at her. "Yeah, that's it, Georgie. That's our way; down those shelves." As everyone began to move, Rick noticed Gabriel wasn't. "Hey, I said you're coming with us."

Gabriel looked as if he was going to shit his pants.

They each crouched onto the tops of the shelves and then jumped down the rest of the way, water splashing up around them. It was waist deep and smelled no better down there than it did above.

"Go! Go! Here they come," Rick snarled. The walkers began to trudge toward them as he and Bob pulled two shelves over and then helped Sasha in moving the other one so they had some sort of barricade going. "I see three here."

They began putting down the walkers as they reached through the shelves at them. Knives and machetes punctured the decaying skulls easily. In a panic over noticing one of the walkers, Gabriel hurried away and clamored for the wooden stairs which were missing their bottom half. As he grabbed onto it, it fell apart and he tumbled back into the water, before getting up and backing himself up against a wall, completely exposed.

"We have to get Gabriel," Rick announced, when he'd noticed the preacher's situation.

"What happened?" Bob wondered.

"I don't know." Maneuvering around, Rick continued, "Alright, we'll push down the shelves on the ones in front of us. We'll fight through and I'll grab him. Go!"

With all their might, they each pushed forward and the shelf went down, toppling somewhat on three of the walkers. Rick, Michonne, Bob, Sasha and Georgie began to pile out, stabbing a walker or two as they moved. Rick finally reached Gabriel and the female walker descending upon him. He grabbed her and smashed her head in while Gabriel sank down into the water, sobbing.

Michonne and Georgie looked at each other, both seeming to fight the urge to roll their eyes.

Just as things seemed calm and all the walkers put down, Bob suddenly got pulled under the water. Sasha shouted out for him as he popped back up with a slimy, skeletal walker. The others came to his aid as he was able to push the walker back, impaling it onto a pole. Sasha took the opportunity to take a green container and demolish the walker's head.

"Bob, you okay?" Georgie called out. "Tell me you're okay."

"You okay?" Sasha echoed, more quietly.

"I am now," Bob said, looking up at his girlfriend.

Georgie moved around, trying to trudge over to the pair, and got the hem of her shirt stuck on an upturned shelf. Rick came up from behind her and pulled the material away for her, placing a hand on her shoulder, making sure she and Michonne were okay before throwing a frustrated glare over at Gabriel.

"We all good now?" Everyone seemed to nod their heads in agreement. "Alright, let's get this shit and get outta here."

* * *

When they had gathered up enough supplies to carry back in the duffel bag, containers and on trolleys, the six of them managed to thankfully get out of the basement alive. No thanks to Gabriel's breakdown, of course, which threw a monkey wrench into things.

"I'm sorry. I—I panicked. I told you I—" Gabriel was saying to Rick once they were all back outside and soaked to the bone.

If the water weren't so dirty or smelled so bad, it would've been refreshing.

"You knew her when she was alive," Rick cut Gabriel off. When the preacher man didn't respond, Rick continued. "Yeah, I get it. You only tell your sins to God."

Georgie eyed the pair as she walked behind them, helping Michonne push a second trolley of supplies. Both women look at each other once more and both seemed to have the same general opinion of the preacher man. He was a pain in the ass, is what he was.

Once away from town and back on the overgrown country road leading toward the church, Rick looked over at Michonne who was now pushing Rick's cart with him. They were making Gabriel push the second one by himself and Georgie walked beside him with her rifle aimed. Sasha and Bob brought up the rear; Bob pulling a wheeled garbage bin full of supplies and Sasha holding her own rifle as well.

"You miss your sword?" Rick asked Michonne.

"Wasn't really mine in the first place. Found it in the very beginning."

"How'd you get so good?"

"It was just me and them out here all day, every day, for a good long time," she explained simply. "I don't know what that was, but it wasn't a life. Not like today; stumbling around in three feet of slime for some peas and carrots, that's living."

Georgie felt the same way. Being alone against this fallen world was a terrible thing, but being in the thick of it with like-minded people, good people, for the sake of a common goal, that togetherness, was what made it all worthwhile.

All in all, it was a good day so far.

"I miss Andrea. I miss Hershel," Michonne continued.

"Yeah," Rick agreed.

Georgie had heard the name of Hershel before. Carol had mentioned he owned a farm the group had stayed on for a while when they were looking for Sophia. Andrea, however, was an unfamiliar name, but Georgie was able to easily deduce it was another person they considered family.

"I don't miss what was before," Michonne insisted. "I don't miss that sword."

"I miss those clothes back at the food bank we didn't grab," Georgie remarked. "We smell like shit."

Rick laughed and looked over his shoulder at her with a nod of his head. "Yeah, we do." He shrugged, looking forward. "Maybe we'll make another run back there tomorrow."

"I'm down with that," Sasha agreed.

"Hey, preacher man," Georgie looked at Gabriel. "You have soap in that little church bathroom of yours?"

"I have a few bars."

"We could also wash what we got if we can't make it back," Georgie suggested.

"Another good idea," Rick nodded. He glanced back at her again and smiled.

* * *

That night, amidst candlelight all around the inside of the church, the group of now seventeen people, which included Gabriel, dined on plenty of canned goods. There was laughter and chatter and people smiling. It was always wonderful to feel some sense of normalcy and community like this again. There were even paper plates and forks to use instead of just eating straight from the cans. It was the little things in life, for sure; the little luxuries everyone had taken for granted before the outbreak.

While she was looking for a good spot to sit, Tyreese gestured at Georgie for her to come sit next him. His kindness almost made her question if he was becoming sweet on her, but then she determined he was just a big ol' compassionate soul. Georgie shimmied down to the floor, using the railing at the base of the altar area as back support. Sitting Indian-style, she held her plate in one hand and scooped up baked beans with the fork in her other hand, laughing at something Michonne had said.

Rick came forward then and sank down to the floor on the other side of Georgie, letting Judith sit on his lap, leaning her against his legs which he had propped up.

"Mmm, those beans look like good eatin'," he quipped, glancing at her plate.

"They are, compared to the little bit of pecans I've only had for the last few days, and I don't even like pecans. Never have. But, they were what was available."

"We make do," he nodded.

"Yep." She looked at Judith and smiled at the girl, and then looked up at Rick. "Ain't you gonna eat?"

"I will once everyone else has had their fill," he insisted. "Plus," he held up a baggie and gave it a shake, "I got these delicious pecans."

Georgie smiled and leaned forward toward Judith. "You tell your daddy he's gonna turn into a pecan."

Smirking, Rick tilted his head back and held her gaze. "Hey, if a pecan is the worst thing I gotta worry about turning into, I'm happy with that." After a beat, he returned his attention to his daughter, who held out her a pecan in her hand. "Ooh, give me—ah."

Georgie laughed at the interaction as Abraham's voice cut through the chatter.

"I'd like to propose a toast," he announced. Everyone slowly fell silent, and turned their attention toward him as they found a place to sit if they weren't sitting already. "I look around this room and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title." Abraham smiled and lifted his glass of wine. "To the survivors."

"To the survivors," everyone repeated, holding their glasses up as well, taking sips and smiling at one another.

"That all you wanna be?" Abraham continued. "Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat? 'Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do, that's just surrender. Now, we get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip."

Judith cooed and Rick pulled her against his chest as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. Georgie pulled her gaze away from Abraham and looked toward Judith instead, giving the little girl her finger like she had in nights past. Georgie's hand had to rest slightly on Rick's shoulder to do so, but he didn't seem to mind. His daughter was comfortable and comfortable with the gesture, and that was what mattered.

"Eugene, what's in DC?" Abraham asked.

Eugene, or Mullet Man as Georgie had been calling him in her head, looked around at a few people and took a breath. "Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this FUBAR magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart."

Abraham smirked. "However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there; safer than you've been since this whole thing started." He looked to Rick. "Come with us. Save the world for that little one." After a moment, he added, "Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there who don't got nothing left to do except survive."

Rick chuckled, and then Judith cooed. "What was that?" he asked her with a smile. "I think she knows what I'm about to say." Judith continued to smile, turning to look at Georgie who still had her finger caught up in the little girl's tiny grip. "She's in. If she's in, I'm in. We're in," Rick grinned.

Georgie had been smiling too, but hers faded somewhat. Pulling her finger away from Judith, she stood up and walked over toward an empty pew while the others laughed and clapped at the prospect of DC and the hope it presented. She pushed her plate away from her and watched as Rick got up as well, handing Judith over to a very eager Sasha and then finally helped himself to some actual food.

Everyone seemed to find different conversations then. Tara was seated beside Maggie, and only their chatter seemed like something serious. Georgie leaned back in her pew, her hands folded in her lap as she literally twiddled her thumbs together.

These people were going to go to DC because there was apparently a cure Eugene could help provide the world with, and that was amazing.

Georgie should be happy.

And she was…for them.

She just couldn't ignore the ache in her heart again; the reason she kept getting up every morning and fighting back against the undead, day in and day out. She worried that if she left this place behind and went with the others, she might possibly lose a chance at healing that ache by choosing to accept there was no hope of finding her son.

Georgie's head lowered and she reached her arms out to grab the pew in front of her, looking down at the floor. When she lifted her head, she looked around the church and realized she couldn't find Carol anywhere; the one she felt the need to talk to right now.

She was probably sitting alone like that for a few more minutes when someone nudged her over and helped themselves to taking up space beside her. It was only somewhat of a tight squeeze because Georgie had been sitting at the end of the pew and she hadn't moved over much.

When she looked beside her, it was Rick, holding a glass of wine that he set down on the floor between his boots.

"What's on your mind? You don't seem as excited for this road trip we're about to take as the others."

Georgie frowned. "I have my reasons," she replied. "Not sure if you'll understand them."

"Won't know until you try me." When she hesitated, he gave her arm another nudge. "C'mon, I don't bite." Then, "Well, okay, some recent events would say otherwise, but that's a different story."

"I lost someone, during the outbreak; someone I would give my life for in a heartbeat. I don't know if they survived. There was no body to be found, so there has never been any reason for me to be completely, one hundred percent certain this person is dead; either truly or as a walker."

"Who?"

She hesitated again, pursing her lips together, and chose to stay silent for a bit longer. Rick turned slightly, facing her side and reaching an arm behind her on the back of the pew as he leaned in toward her face. Certain things in his head seemed to piece themselves together over notions he'd had about her; things she'd said in the last day, her mannerisms around Judith and Carl.

"You told me yesterday that taking care of Judith was just instinct, 'cause you're a mom," he spoke quietly. "You didn't say you _were_ a mom. You said you _are_. You have a child out there in the world, don't you?"

Georgie cast a side glance at him. His face was inches from hers and she was starting to feel as comfortable around him as she did with Carol. Bob she had known the longest of everyone there and not even _he_ knew about her son. She never spoke about her pre-apocalypse life when she was in that first group with him. She barely spoke about it with her second group, except with Dana. When she caught Rick's eye, she let one or two walls fall down. Her shoulders slumped slightly and she nodded her head.

"My son," she finally replied. "Tristan."

"How old is he?"

She appreciated him not referring to her son in the past tense. "He'd be eight, going on nine now. He was seven and a half when I last saw him. He, uh…he had gone on his first Cub Scout camping trip. It was an entire weekend thing. He was so excited about it. It was all he would talk about. Then the world suddenly fell apart, so my husband and I drove to the campground where the kids were supposed to be, but he wasn't there. Eleven of the fifteen boys were there and they were dead. So was one of their leaders. The other four boys and the other leader, my son included, were missing. So, my husband, daughter and myself went home, thinking maybe the leader would bring him home to us, but that never happened."

"You had a daughter, too?" Considering how she was with Judith, he asked, "Was she Judith's age when the outbreak happened?"

"She was three." Georgie began to fidget with her fingers. "She died, though."

"Where was your husband? Did he turn?"

Georgie shrugged. "He took off a month in. We'd been fighting, he wanted to go to Atlanta and I wanted to stay put in case Tristan came home. He left me and our daughter."

"I'm sorry," Rick commented.

Georgie shook her head. "My brother got to us two weeks later and was with us week more. On a supply run, I found my husband's truck, abandoned on the road. The door was open, keys in the ignition and blood on the ground. He was nowhere to be found either, but at least with him there was evidence he's probably dead. Then, my brother got bit and didn't tell me, and he bit my daughter because I hadn't realized he'd turned. My daughter died in my arms, bleeding out and I had to put my brother down before doing the same to my little girl, so she wouldn't become a walker either."

"Shit." Rick leaned back; he hadn't been expecting that terrible of a backstory.

He knew a lot of people had suffered great loss. He knew Michonne has lost a son the same age, and of course Carol had lost her daughter, but here was Georgie who had been witness to her daughter's demise and was living with the fear her son suffered a similar fate. What had to be worse was never knowing one way or the either.

"I've been wandering around the greater Atlanta area and towns even further out since I first went off alone. Even when I was with other groups, I was able to keep an eye out for clues to what happened to my son," she finally continued. "If I go to DC, I'm scared I'll definitely never find him. Even if he's a walker somewhere, I need to know where he is. I've been holding onto hope for so long, wishing for the best, that other people found him and took him in and have been protecting him all this time. It's what got me through the winter nights and every obstacle put in my way; pure, unadulterated hope." Georgie shifted back about an inch away from Rick and stared him dead in the face. "If Carol hadn't come along when she did, everything would be different for me right now. Because of Carol, I got to meet Judith. Before then, my only goal was a glimmer of hope my son might be alive. Even if he is, I have no way of knowing where he is, and that's more painful than I can express. However, Judith is in my life now. That little girl of yours has filled my heart with a different hope and a new purpose."

Rick leaned back against the corner of the pew while reaching his hand down onto Georgie's shoulder. He was going to say something but then shut his mouth, letting her continue her thought process instead.

"My main purpose right now is protecting Judith," she declared to him. "My past, my loss, is holding me back from having a future and enjoying the now. If my son is alive, which I hope he is, I believe he is with good people, but if he's dead, I believe that his true self, his soul, is with his sister, and I can rest easy knowing he feels no pain anymore, that he doesn't have to experience the horrors of this new world. Judith, on the other hand, and Carl, too; they're my here and now, and I want to help make sure they have a future."

Dumbfounded over what to say at first, Rick just sat there silently, letting her words sink in and process in his head. Their eyes met again and the only thing he could think of doing right off the bat was to wrap his arms around her and give her a tight hug.

Georgie didn't react right away to the gesture, but soon caved; reaching her arms around to his back and resting her head down on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank _you_." When he pulled back, Rick reached a hand up to cup the side of her face, forcing her to hold his gaze. "I'm glad Carol found you, too, and that you've stuck by my daughter, and helped all of us out several times over already," he insisted. He moved his other hand to her shoulder. "If you are serious about sticking around with us and being a champion of my children's future in this world, then I promise you that I will do whatever I can to help you find out the fate of your son. Even if it takes years, I don't care; I will help you."

Georgie grinned as tears lined her eyes. She couldn't help herself but, in the tenseness of the conversation and the emotions she was feeling and just their overall close proximity, she found herself a little taken with Rick then. She was somehow just now seeing him in a new light.

"Just promise me you'll stay with us," Rick finished saying.

"This is where Judith and Carl are," Georgie snickered. "You couldn't pry me away now, even with the jaws of life."

Rick smiled back at her and then surprised her by placing his lips to her forehead. When he leaned back again, he tapped the back of the pew. "I think we're all gonna be okay."

"I do, too," she concurred. "Because we're survivors."


	7. Uneasy Lies The Head

**Author's Note: I think this is my favorite chapter so far ;)**

* * *

"_Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose _

_To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, _

_And in the calmest and most stillest night, _

_With all appliances and means to boot, _

_Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down! _

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."_

– William Shakespeare, _Henry IV Part II_

* * *

After her impromptu heart to heart with Rick, a man she barely knew but knew well enough, Georgie and Rick had both leaned back against the pew. He had leaned down to pick up his wine glass from between his boots and offered some to Georgie. She shook her head but he frowned at her and nonverbally insisted. With a smirk, Georgie caved and took the glass. Knocking back a decent sip of the bitter red wine, she made a soured expression that brought a laugh out of Rick as he took the glass back.

"Yeah, it's not great," he agreed to her unspoken opinion on the wine. And, still, he went ahead and finished the rest of the glass off.

"It's not even the fact that it's clearly cheap wine," Georgie commented. "It's the fact that this is the first time I've had alcohol in months. My palate has been used to only water for so long."

Rick held the empty glass in both his hands, resting it on his lap. He looked down at it and smiled. "Yeah, there's a lot of things we've had to get used to, ain't there?" He wasn't really looking for an answer; it was more or less rhetorical.

"My last group, that I lost about two weeks ago, there was this woman named Dana," Georgie began to recount. "She was about my age and a mother, also; she had a daughter around Carl's age, and a five-year-old son. So, Dana and I had a lot in common and I considered her my best friend, family. Well, Dana and I started this little game, kinda like what Sasha and Bob were doing this afternoon before we found Gabriel. In our game, though, it was just something we did when we woke up every morning. We would each say something we missed from our lives before, and it had to be something superficial," she gestured at Rick's glass, "like good wine, or coffee from Starbucks, or 400-count Egyptian cotton sheets."

Rick turned to face her a little, still smiling; his mind clearly trying to recall material positions from the world gone by.

"We get so focused on the life we're leading, just living day to day, trying not to worry about how much time we got left, that sometimes it was a nice, momentary distraction to think about stupid shit like that from our past. If it put a smile on our faces for three seconds, we felt like that was three seconds we added onto our life spans," she continued. Catching his eye, Georgie asked, "What's one thing you miss about the good ol' days?"

Rick chuckled, just as he noticed Sasha walking around, calling out for Bob. His smile faded slightly as he placed a hand on Georgie's shoulder and handed the empty glass back to her. "Ask me again in the morning."

Georgie turned her head, glancing over her shoulder as Sasha walked toward the back of the church, and opened one of the double doors, calling out Bob's name in a hushed voice. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed Rick had gotten up and walked over to Sasha, and then was followed by Tyreese. Getting to her feet as well, Georgie set the wine glass down on the pew and glanced in the opposite direction to see that Judith was asleep in her brother's arms; both children were safe and sound. Slipping out into center aisle, Georgie walked over to the three at the door and placed a hand on Sasha's shoulder.

"Is Bob missing?"

The other woman looked nervous. "I think he went out for some air. I didn't see him leave and he's been gone a while. I mean what if walkers got him and we didn't hear him calling for help? How do I live with myself if he's dead and I could've done something?"

"Let's not jump the gun, alright?" Rick spoke calmly.

"I gotta go look for him," Sasha insisted. "I can't sit in here and wait."

"Okay, alright," Rick nodded. "We'll do this together. No one goes off alone."

"No," she shook her head. "I gotta do this." She turned back and picked up a suppressed rifle and headed out the doors without waiting for anyone else.

Rick looked at Tyreese, throwing his hands up and Tyreese simply frowned. Rick gestured to the other weapons nearby and Georgie grabbed a flashlight from one of the pews nearest the doors. Rick passed a rifle to Tyreese who slung it over his shoulder. Rick then offered a six-inch barreled Colt Python .357 Magnum revolver to Georgie who waved it off as she unsheathed her hunting knife and showed him. With a nod, he accepted her weapon of choice and kept the Colt for himself.

"Hey, y'all," he called out to the others in the front of the church. "Not to alarm, but we're gonna head out for a few. We'll be back." He looked directly at his son. "Carl, watch Judith."

"Dad, where are you going?"

The others grew concerned and curious all the same; a few standing up.

"We got trouble?" Abraham inquired.

Rick held up a hand to signal things were fine and for them to stand down a bit. "Bob's just gone off and we're gonna try and look for him. Nothing to worry about."

"Famous last words," Eugene remarked under his breath and Georgie looked at him in time to see Rosita punch him in the arm and mutter at him to shut up.

Rick cast his eyes back toward both Tyreese and Georgie. "Alright," is all he said.

The three of them darted out of the church, making sure both doors were closed firmly behind them. They walked forward into the trees a ways before they came upon Sasha in the process bashing the head in of a walker with the butt of her rifle. Tyreese came up from behind her and covered her mouth in case his approached scared her and she screamed.

"It's me—it's me," he assured, as both Rick and Georgie appeared quickly beside him, with Georgie manning the flashlight.

When she turned to see her big brother, Sasha gasped, "Tyreese. He's getting away."

"Who?" Rick asked.

"Somebody was watching us."

Tyreese looked forward into the thicker, darker part of the woods. "If we go in there now, some of us aren't coming back."

Rick moved around them, aiming his Colt while Georgie raised her knife and pointed the flashlight in a few different directions to cast some light on those dark areas they couldn't see into.

"Bob is out there somewhere," Georgie remarked.

"Scared, alone," Sasha added.

"Maybe not alone," Georgie continued. "Carol is missing, too. I noticed she was gone earlier."

"Same with Daryl," Rick said.

Together, the four of them turned back to the church and, as soon as one of the double doors creaked open to reveal them to the others, and then shut once they were in, Sasha walked right up the center aisle to Gabriel, who looked at her and then appeared to try and putter with something.

"Stop," Sasha spoke. "What are you doing?" He had silverware in his hands and couldn't seem to find his voice. "What are you doing?" Sasha repeated more firmly. "This is all connected. You show up, we're being watched, and now three of us are gone."

"I—I don't—I don't have anything to do with this," Gabriel insisted, backing up slightly, afraid. When Sasha pulled out her knife, Gabriel jumped back even farther. "Wait!"

"Don't!" Rosita shouted, as Abraham held her back.

"Put it away," Tyreese demanded of his sister.

"Who's out there?" Sasha asked, leaning toward Gabriel.

"I don't have anything to—"

"Where are our people?!" she screamed in his face.

"Please, I don't have anything to do with this. I—"

Rick pulled Sasha back and approached Gabriel instead. "Why'd you bring us here?"

"Please, I—"

"You working with someone?"

"I'm alone. I'm alone. I was always alone," Gabriel maintained.

"What about the woman in the food bank, Gabriel? What did you do to her? 'You'll burn for this.' That was for you. Why? What are you gonna burn for, Gabriel?" Rick launched himself at the preacher and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and leaned him against the altar area railing. "What? What did you do? _What did you do_?!"

As Rick roughly let go and took a step back, Gabriel fumbled for his words, tears appearing in his eyes again. "I lock the doors at night. I always lock the doors at night, I always lock the doors at night," he repeated himself, forcing back the urge to cry. "I always—they started coming, my congregation. Atlanta was bombed the night before and they were scared. They were—they were looking for a safe place, a place where they felt safe." Gabriel looked around at the others looking back at him. "And it was so early. It was so early. And the doors were still locked. You see…it was my choice. There were so many of them and they were trying to pry the shutters and banging on the sidings, screaming at me. And so the dead came for them; women, children…entire families calling my name as they were torn apart, begging me for mercy." Gabriel brought his hands to his chest and began sobbing. "Begging me for mercy; damning me to hell. I buried their bones. I buried it all." He looked straight at Rick, but he was speaking to all. "The Lord sent you here to finally punish me." Dropping to the floor, he continued to sob. "I'm damned. I was damned before. I always lock the doors. I always lock the doors."

Georgie watched as Sasha sheathed her knife, deeming the situation not worth the added drama. In the back of the church, Glenn moved to one of the windows, with Maggie following behind him. Their movement drew the attentions of the others in the front of the church, who turned to look at them.

"There's something—" Glenn began, and then louder, he clarified, "there's someone outside lying in the grass."

Sasha was off immediately and Rick called after her. She whipped open the door and the others followed her as she cried out. There, in the grass, was Bob; unconscious and missing half his left leg from the knee down. However, it was bandaged up real good so the culprit couldn't have been a walker; although, walkers were just what happened to be approaching.

"Oh, his leg," Maggie gasped.

"Get Bob inside, we'll take care of them," Glenn called out, bashing in the head of one of the walkers to his left.

"Can you help me, please?" Sasha looked over at Georgie, who helped lift Bob up and carry him back into the church. "Help me. Help me."

"It's alright, it's alright," Georgie assured for Sasha's sake.

Gun shots rang out.

"Get inside!" Rick shouted. "Go!"

* * *

"I was in the graveyard. Somebody knocked me out. I woke up outside this place. It looked like a school," Bob was recalling, once he was conscious. Everyone was huddled around him where they had him lying on the floor. "It was that guy, Gareth, and five other ones. They were eating my leg right in front of me, like it was nothing; all proud like they had it all figured out."

"Did they have Daryl and Carol?" Rick asked.

"Gareth said they drove off."

Everyone exchanged looks with each other.

Georgie felt somewhat hurt by this information. Why would Carol just leave like that; without so much of a goodbye? She knew the older woman had originally agreed to help look for Tristan but, after Lizzie and Mika, had shared her feelings about leaving when they had been on the tracks to Terminus. What took them away so abruptly in the dead of night without telling anyone?

Bob tried sitting up, but gasped and struggled, as Sasha and Maggie helped him.

"He's in pain." Sasha looked back at Abraham and Rosita. "Do we have anything?"

"I think there are pill packets in the first aid kit," Rosita replied.

"Yeah," Sasha nodded.

"Save 'em," Bob spoke up, his breathing labored.

"No."

"_Really_," he growled, looking at her. Sitting up, he pushed his shirt off his right shoulder, revealing a bite mark that wasn't completely recent, but was still red and bleeding somewhat.

Sasha sat there stunned and Georgie sank back beside her against a pew, both looked defeated. The others, too, felt the ache in their chests over his sealed fate.

"It happened at the food bank," he explained, looking Sasha in the eye, and then laying back onto the floor when the effort of sitting up became too much for him.

"There's a sofa, in my office," Gabriel offered. "I know it's not much, but—"

Sasha looked over her shoulder at him, her gaze a complete 180 from how she had looked at him before. "Thank you."

"I got him," Tyreese spoke.

Everyone stood up and gave the burly man some berth to pick Bob up. Georgie placed a hand on Sasha's lower back and gave her a sympathetic rub before reaching her arm around Sasha's waist and turning it into a small, side hug of support for their mutual, impending loss. Both women followed Tyreese into the office with Bob, where he laid the slowly dying man down upon the sofa.

"I'm sorry," Bob mumbled, trying to mask his pain for Sasha's benefit.

"This is not your fault, baby," she insisted, crouching down beside him.

Georgie placed her hand on his forehead and smiled as warmly down at him as his skin felt. "I have a feeling you're gonna pull through this," she blatantly lied, and he knew it, but smiled back anyway. "People like us don't survive losing two entire groups to go out like this. You don't get to clock out yet, my friend. I haven't said you could."

"Well, I'll do my best, boss."

Tyreese smirked. "Boss?"

"Georgie didn't tell you? Yeah, that first group we were in together, she kinda led us; kept us sane."

Georgie smiled. "You just rest, alright?"

Bob nodded and turned his attention back to Sasha. Georgie took that moment to slip out of the office as Carl was walking inside of it, carrying a crying Judith in her Moses bed, and quietly shushing her.

"Heya," Georgie said briefly to the boy, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze as they passed each other. When she approached Rick, he turned to her.

"Does he have a fever?" he asked.

"He's just warm."

"Jim lasted almost two days before we left him," Glenn commented.

"Time for a reality check," Abraham interjected, standing back a ways with his rifle in his hands, looking like rather like some douchebag minor character who was thirty seconds away from being killed in _Predator_. "We all need to leave for DC right now."

"Daryl and Carol are gonna be back," Rick assured. "We're not going _anywhere_ without them."

"I respect that, but there's a clear threat here to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to you. We'll go our separate ways." Abraham turned and began to walk off toward the door; Rosita shuffling off behind him like his obedient lapdog.

"You leaving on foot?"

"We fixed that damn bus ourselves," Abraham bit out as he turned back around to face Rick, who stomped forward.

"There are a lot more of us."

"You want to keep it that way? You should come."

"_Carol_ and _Georgie_ saved your life," Rick spat, referring to Terminus, getting into Abraham's face. "_We_ saved your life."

"_Well, I am trying to save yours_," Abraham shouted, "_save everyone's_!"

"We're not going anywhere without our people."

"Your people took off."

"They're coming _back_."

"_To what, picked-over bones_?!" Abraham shouted even louder, spitting as he did so.

"You're not taking—" Rick began, poking the ginger man in the chest.

In a flurry of movement, Abraham swatted Rick away. "_Do not lay hands_!" he continued to shout.

"Abraham!" Rosita called out.

Georgie ran over. She'd seen plenty of men in her two previous groups get heated over plenty of things before. "Hey, hey, stop!" she shouted at them both, shoving them apart. "Now!" Georgie looked briefly at Rick before turning to Abraham and moving almost right up into his face while he maintained his gaze with Rick. "Do you _really_ think that you're gonna be any safer leaving _right_ now in the _middle_ of the night?"

"Yeah," Abraham insisted, casting his stern eyes to her. "Yeah."

"What about tomorrow?" Glenn continued where Georgie left off. "We _need_ each other for this. We _need_ each other to get to DC. We can get through _all_ of it together."

"I have an idea." Everyone turned their attention to Tara, who approached from behind Rick. "If you stay just one more day and help, I'll go with you to DC no matter what. Okay?"

"Glenn and Maggie, too," Abraham spoke, more calmly, as if the married couple were bargaining chips.

"No," Rick denied.

"Good luck, then. I'm not interested in breaking up what you have here. Rosita, grab your gear."

"Abraham—"

"Now," he barked. "Eugene, let's go." Nothing. "Eugene. Move it."

"I don't want to," was Eugene's response.

"Now."

"Okay," Eugene said softly, standing up and walking obediently up the aisle like a child told to go to his room without supper.

"You're not taking the bus," Rick reiterated, looking at the ground.

Abraham stopped walking. "Try to stop me."

Neither men said nor did anything for a few moments, and then Rick began to close the gap between him; a man on a mission. Everyone moved, tensing up for a brawl.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Glenn shouted, getting between the pair, just as Georgie had done. "Hey, hey, hey!" He looked up at Abraham. "You stay—you stay and help us, and we will go with you."

"No," Rick insisted.

Glenn turned and looked at him. "It's not your call." Back at Abraham, Glenn continued, "You stay, help us."

Abraham considered, and then nodded a little. "Half a day," he bartered. "Come high noon, we're taillights. I'm not waiting for the other _damn_ shoe to drop."

"And we _will_ leave with you," Maggie guaranteed.

"Twelve hours," Abraham said. "Then we go." Lifting up his rifle, he then walked past Rick to the front of the church.

Rick clenched his jaw, watching as Rosita, Glenn and Eugene walked off down the aisle behind him as well. He couldn't bring himself to turn and look at any of them at the moment. He was still bubbling with anger underneath the surface to the point that his hands shook a little. Georgie reached out and touched a hand to his arm and he jerked it away abruptly on instinct, his entire body tensing, before letting his shoulders sag as he half-looked at her.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He walked over to the very last pew to his right, stepping behind it and leaning the small of his back against it. He locked his legs, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor while his dirty, somewhat curly, hair hung around his face.

Georgie paused for a moment and then stepped over to him. She walked around to stand at his right, letting her ass press against the back of the pew while she gripped the top with her hands. She stared forward at the window across from them. There was nothing to see but a few trees and darkness.

"We gotta keep level heads here," she spoke, quietly, only for his ears. "We got too much shit falling down on our heads again and losing our cool won't help any." She turned and looked at his profile. He wasn't moving to speak at all. "You really want to unnerve someone in an argument; keep a simple tone and show no emotion. It freaks people out, makes them wonder what the fuck you're up to."

"That coming from personal experience?" he finally spoke, though he was still looking down at the floor.

"Maybe," Georgie smirked and turned around to face the front of the church. She still gripped the top of the pew but now it was her front, upper thigh which she had pressed against the back of it. She leaned to her right, which was also still Rick's right, getting close to his ear. "Didn't we agree earlier we'd all be okay? What happened to that?"

"Shit happens."

"Yeah, it _does_," she nodded. "Don't mean you need to let it get the best of ya. Be Winston Churchill."

Rick frowned and finally lifted his head, meeting her gaze. "What?"

"Winston Churchill," she repeated. "You know…keep calm and carry on."

He turned his body, leaning his weight primarily onto his right leg while continuing to also lean against the back of the pew. "Really? Just like that? Just keep calm and carry on?" He inched his face closer toward her and tilted his head. "This ain't World War II."

"It feels like it," Georgie quipped. "The world we knew ended and we are in daily battles against both the dead _and_ the living, and sometimes, as you and Abraham have proven, we battle each other; whether it's physically or verbally." She narrowed her eyes at him, placing her hands on her hips and taking somewhat of a power stance. "I've taken the reins of my previous groups before. I know that it's 'uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.' I know that stress and that frustration when other people don't want to play by your rules that you've set for the good of the whole. I know," she insisted, poking herself in the chest.

Rick looked down at her hand, and then looked up to study her face a bit; the wheels in his head moving. "You want the reins now? Think you'll do a better job?"

"That's not what I'm saying," she asserted. Georgie reached the same hand out and gripped his left shoulder. "I'm saying to grab those reins tight and maintain control," she clarified. "Some people are natural born leaders, Rick. You're one of them, and a good one at that. So do what you do best, but don't let it pull you apart in the process." Then as an afterthought, and with a smirk, she added, "Leave the pulling apart to the walkers. That's what they're good at."

Despite himself, Rick smirked as well. He lifted his head to look just over hers before casting his eyes back upon her face. He gave a nod of his head and took a step closer to her. "Thank you." He slapped her arm, gently. "Sometimes I need a figurative kick to the ass to get me in check."

"I'm happy to kick your ass."

They smiled at each other and the mood seemed to lighten, but only a little.

* * *

"They think they're in control," Rick was saying. "We're in here and they could be anywhere. But we know exactly where they are."

Everyone was standing or sitting around the front of the church now, gathered and cooled off from earlier. Abraham was seated on the top of a front pew, hunched forward with his feet planted on the sea and his hands folded between his knees. Rick stood front and center, at the base of the altar. Tara was at his left, loading gun, and Georgie was at his right, arms folded.

"Plan's got stones, I'll give you that," Abraham remarked.

"Make our move before they do," Georgie spoke.

Nodding, Rick looked at her for a moment. "That's right. They're not counting on us thinking straight."

"Are we?" Rosita inquired. "I'm just making sure. It's a big play."

Rick stepped forward. "Remember what these people are capable of?"

Cannibalism.

It went unsaid, but everyone was on the same wavelength.

"Tyreese."

"Yeah?"

"You up for this?"

Sasha appeared from the office. "I'm going with you."

"You should stay with Bob," her brother insisted.

"No, I want to be out there. I want to be a part of this." With that, Sasha stepped back into the office and Tyreese followed after her.

Rick turned his gaze from the siblings and briefly to Georgie, as if now somehow needing her approval to go ahead and get his weapon. It just felt strange. He'd known her not even two days, but he knew her well enough all the same. She had helped Carol save them back at Terminus, she had protected Judith and had all but declared she would forsake her own goal of finding her son and instead opt to lay her life down for both of his children. She had his back and she had the ability to rein him in, back to sanity. She had his trust, and he had hers. That's why he needed her approval, and yet it still felt a little strange.

There was something more to it that he couldn't place his finger on, but this wasn't the moment to think on it.

* * *

Rick, Georgie, Michonne, Sasha, Glenn, Maggie, Tara and Abraham exited the church, walking off in the direction of the elementary school where the Terminites had taken Bob earlier, with the intention of hunting them down.

_However_…

…That was the ploy.

They wanted the Terminites to think they'd left the others alone and taken most or their entire weapon power with them, to draw the Terminites in and surround them. Once they knew the bastards were inside the church, they quietly stepped out of the woods and headed back to the church. The doors had been left open, so they were able to stealthily slip inside and hide in the shadows of the entrance.

Raising his Colt, Rick shot the two men on either side of the closed office door once in the head; their blood painting the wall before their bodies fell lifelessly to the ground with the guns they'd been holding.

The other Terminites turned around in surprise as Rick demanded, in a calm and cool, but authoritative, voice, "Put your guns on the floor."

"Rick, we'll fire right into that office," Gareth informed. "So you lower your gun—"

A silenced gunshot rang out and the bullet blasted off two of Gareth's fingers. He hunched over, dropping his gun and crying out in pain.

Rick stepped out of the shadow, his Colt steadily aimed as he amended his previous demand. "Put your guns on the floor and kneel."

"Do what he says," Gareth wheezed, as the others obeyed, dropping their weapons. Except for Martin, the man from the hunting shack. "Martin, there's no choice here."

"Yeah, there is," Martin nodded.

Abraham came up from the side, rifled pointed at the cocky asshole. "Want to bet?"

While Gareth was gasping, Martin obliged. He got down on his knees, but still held onto his gun and seemed to be smirking slightly. Michonne came up the opposite side of the church as Abraham and pointed her rifle at the back of the female Terminite's head. The others still remained somewhat in the dark, except for Georgie and Sasha, who were in step with Rick, just a couple feet behind, with their own rifles aimed. However, Sasha set hers down in a pew and began picking up the discarded weapons.

Gareth turned toward Rick, who looked down at him. "No point in begging, right?" he asked with an attempt at a laugh.

"No," Rick assured, maintaining a cool and level head.

"Still, you could have killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that."

"We didn't want to waste the bullets."

"We used to help people. We _saved_ people," Gareth claimed. "Things changed. They came in and—" He hunched forward and groaned in pain again. "After that…I know that you've been out there, but I can see it. You don't know what it is to be _hungry_. You don't have to do this. We can walk away. And we will never cross paths again. I promise you."

"But you'll cross someone's path," Rick shrugged, clicking his Colt and aiming it at Gareth's head for a moment. The younger man flinched and Rick lowered the weapon. "You'd do this to anyone, right?" His left hand suddenly went to the red-handled machete at his side. "Besides, I already made you a promise."

As Rick pulled the machete out with his right hand, Gareth screamed, but it was too late. Rick had sliced the blade right through into his head. Screaming erupted from the Terminites as their slaughter commenced.

The only inactive participants were Maggie, Glenn and Tara. They stood there too stunned by the violence to move. Michonne bashed in the face of the female Terminite, Abraham did the same to one of the men near him, Rick sliced repeatedly into Gareth's skull with blood splattering back up at him, Sasha stabbed Martin repeatedly in the neck. Then there was Georgie, who hesitated for a moment, but then dropped her rifle, unsheathed her hunting knife and slit the throat of another Terminite she had come up behind before gripping his shoulder and burying the blade deep into his skull. Twice.

After one last hack to Gareth's head, Rick turned to Georgie, who turned to him. Both were covered in blood; on their hands, their clothes and their faces. Rick seemed satisfied, while Georgie was a bit more shaken over what she'd done. While, yes, she was satisfied in having avenged her new friends for what the Terminites had put them through and for those who had been cannibalized by them as well, Bob included, she had never done anything as vicious to a living person before who hadn't physically attacked her first.

Georgie dropped her knife to the ground and shook a little. Rick reached forward; taking her bloody hand in his bloody hand and holding it tight as they looked around at the carnage.

"It could have been us," Rick said aloud to everyone.

"Yeah," Georgie agreed after a moment, but was still shaken.

Rick released her hand and holstered the machete, walking toward the office where Gabriel was standing, stunned at what he saw. Rick, followed by Sasha and then Abraham, stepped inside the office and Gabriel was even more flabbergasted.

"This is the Lord's house," the preacher remarked.

"No," Georgie disagreed, looking up at him solemnly. "It's just four walls and a roof."

With that, she walked past him and headed into the office as well.

* * *

By the time morning had broken, those that had done the slaughtering had washed most of the blood off in the church bathroom with those bars of soap Gabriel had informed he had. There was no saving Georgie's shirt, so she took it off and tossed it away, just thankful she had a second layer, a tank top, on underneath.

Bob was still with them, but barely and everyone took turns saying their goodbyes to him.

Georgie was sitting on the edge of the sofa, next to him, holding his hand in hers. "You were there at the beginning for me," she said.

"And you're here at the _end_ for _me_," he replied.

"You'll always be with us; part of us." Then she added, "Part of _me_." Giving his hand a squeeze, Georgie stood up and walked out of the room, while Rick stayed behind with Judith. She wiped a few tears from her eyes when she was out of Bob's line of sight and reached over to Carl, placing an arm around his shoulder as they walked side by side out of the church.

A short time later, Bob had died and Tyreese put him down for Sasha before he could reanimate. Bob was buried in the church's cemetery and Sasha made his grave marker out of two sticks and string. On the road that led away from the church, not long after, most of the group stood.

Abraham handed Rick a folded up map. "This is our route to DC. We'll stick to it as long as we're able. If not, well, you got our destination," he explained. "Once Eugene gets to the big brains left up there, things are gonna bounce back. This group should be there for it. You should be there for it."

"They will be," Maggie spoke with certainty.

"We will," Georgie agreed; her thumbs hooked in the back pockets of her pants.

Rick looked back at her. "We will," he repeated with a smile.

Abraham smiled as well, and nodded to his group which was splitting off. "Let's go," he rallied, turning and walking off toward the short, white bus.

Once Abraham, Eugene, Rosita, Tara, Glenn and Maggie had piled in, the others stood back, waving or nodding goodbye.

Georgie looked down at Rick's left arm, which was resting on the railing to the steps. His fingers fidgeted and she placed her own hand over his to stop him. The gesture made him look at both of their hands and he _did_ stop fidgeting. He raised his gaze up to her face and he smiled appreciatively.

As Michonne led Carl and Judith back inside the church, which had since been cleaned out of the bodies of the Terminites, Rick gently pulled his hand away and opened the map. Georgie looked at it with him, noting the route highlighted in red pen and a message written below.

_SORRY, I WAS AN ASSHOLE. COME TO WASHINGTON. THE NEW WORLD'S GONNA NEED __RICK __GRIMES_.

Rick lifted his head and smirked, closing the map back up.

Sasha and Tyreese had gone back into the church as well, but Georgie remained there still. Rick looked over at her and tilted his head; it was obvious to him she wanted to say something.

"What is it?"

"It's morning."

"Yeah," he looked around briefly before focusing on her again. "That it is."

"What material item do you miss from the old world?"

Rick chuckled, remembering their conversation they'd had before they'd realized Bob and the others had gone missing. "What do I miss?" he repeated, smiling. "Ahh…"

Georgie leaned against the railing and just waited for an answer with her own smile.

He looked down at himself, emitted another chuckle, and then pulled at the bottom of his shirt. "Readily available clean shirts," he finally answered.

Georgie smiled wider. "Good one."

"What about you? What do _you_ miss?"

"Häagen-Dazs."

Rick more heartily laughed. "Yeah," he agreed with a nod of his head. "Yes, _definitely_ that."

Placing a hand on the small of her back, he let Georgie lead the way back into the church.


	8. Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

**Paty S: Yes, I will be following the show's storyline, but there will be plenty of original plots and "bonus scenes" thrown in along the way as well.**

* * *

"_Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."_

* * *

After the remaining church had settled in to get some rest, Tyreese had gone back out, toward the cemetery and begun digging graves for the Terminites. Rick had gone over to Judith and Carl, placing a kiss atop both their heads when his gaze followed out the windows and realized what Tyreese was doing. Telling everyone to have something to eat and get some rest for a while, he ducked back outside as well to help.

Carl had been taking care of his sister all night and, being a growing boy, he needed his rest even more than the adults. Judith was very wide awake so Georgie took her from him and shooed him away to the office to sleep. Michonne followed after him, to either keep him company or keep him protected, while Sasha laid down on one of the pews, but Georgie doubted the woman was doing much sleeping of her own. After the loss of Bob and what they'd done to the Terminites, it was hard to let the mind rest. Gabriel just sat at the first pew on the side of the office, hunched forward with his hands together in possible prayer. Georgie, though, walked around a bit, bouncing Judith in her arms and kissing the little girl's temple while bringing her over to one of the side windows. Peering out, she watched Tyreese and Rick digging graves together. Tyreese was already inside one that was deep enough, while Rick had just begun.

"There's your daddy," she murmured against Judith's temple. "He's helping Uncle Tyreese do a good thing for those bad people."

Georgie continued to watch both men, feeling guilty, as if she should be helping them as well; but she was helping. She was taking care of Judith. She still watched the men, though; admiring their perseverance. Tyreese was blocked mostly by some tall grass. Rick was the only one in full view still, with his back to the church. She watched how the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexed with each movement he made and, even despite the days old grime, blood and sweat that permeated his shirt and clung to the his hair which curled at the base of his neck, Georgie found herself drawn to him.

With or without the grime, blood and sweat and even the odor, which they all had, Rick was a very good looking man. It was pointless for Georgie to deny it.

When she got to wondering what he looked like with that shirt off, that's when she shook her head and its thoughts away and turned from the window.

"Should we get some sleep?" she asked Judith. "I know _I_ need it."

Georgie crept into the office and laid Judith down in the Moses bed and brought both out into the sanctuary. She set the Moses bed down on the floor between a row of pews and then laid down on said pew, on her side so that she could reach a finger down and offer it to Judith's hand again. As soon as Judith took hold, Georgie set her head down on the wooden surface and was out like a light moments later.

It was no more than an hour later when Rick and Tyreese came back into the church. The Terminites had been buried, but without grave markers. They didn't deserve grave markers. Rick sauntered up the center aisle as Tyreese shut the door behind them. The former didn't see anyone but noticed the office door was shut. Once he got about halfway down the aisle, he spotted Georgie and Judith. Both were asleep, and he smirked. Rick placed his hand on the pew in front of them and looked down to see Judith still holding Georgie's finger and let his smirk turn into a smile.

Moving around to that next pew, he sat down and turned to nod at Tyreese who was walking past. Swiveling his body, he laid back against the pew's hard surface, placing an arm under his head and bending his legs at the knees as he propped them up onto the pew. Staring up at the church ceiling, Rick's mind reeled, but he couldn't fight his own slumber any longer. He'd been awake more than twenty-four hours and his body was exhausted. He gave in to sleep, and it was glorious.

* * *

A few hours later, everyone began waking up.

Judith had rolled over and was holding her head up as she cooed and gabbed to herself, which was what woke Georgie up. Popping one eye open at first, she smiled at the sight of the little girl and then opened the other eye. She reached a hand out and brushed Judith's light dusting of hair back, softly, and just watched quietly.

A male groan of waking consciousness came from the pew in front of them, followed by the sound of shifting around and a slight creaking from the wood. After hearing an exaggerated yawn, Georgie saw Rick pop up from over the top of the pew out the corner of her eye. She turned her attention to him and he turned in his pew and looked at her, and then leaned on the back of his pew to glance down at Judith.

"Hey, baby girl," he called out to his daughter. Judith struggled to find where the voice had come from, but she smiled nonetheless, which made both Rick and Georgie smile as well.

"Sleep well, princess?" Georgie asked him.

Rick snickered. "Well enough," he replied. "How about you?"

"It wasn't the best sleep I've had, but I'll live."

Folding his arms on the back of his pew, he rested his chin down upon said arms. "What do you miss?"

Georgie shook her head. "It's not morning anymore."

Rick shrugged. "But we did just wake up. I think we can let the rules slide just this once," he commented.

Thinking a moment, Georgie said, "Hot, steamy showers."

Smiling, Rick nodded. "Mmm, yeah," he agreed.

"What do _you_ miss?"

"My razor." He grabbed a hold of the bottom of his beard. "This is getting a bit out of control."

Georgie chuckled. "Well, I have no basis for comparison; this is the only way I've seen you. But, it works really well for you. Not every guy could wear or _grow_ a beard."

Rick nodded; his smile on both his lips and in his eyes. "Glenn, for example," he remarked. "I've been with him since the beginning and I haven't seen him shave at all in all this time."

Georgie knitted her brow, trying to hold back a hearty laugh. "And doesn't he only have basically peach fuzz on his upper lip?"

"Yeah," Rick nodded, giving in to his own laugh.

A moment of silence fell over the pair as they both looked back down toward Judith.

When Georgie looked back at Rick, she sat up and reached a hand out to him and pinched at the material covering his shoulder. "I could try and wash this shirt for you. We got a sink with running water and soap in that bathroom. I could get some of that funk off ya so you won't kill so many flies when you walk by," she teased.

"This thing was bright white not even a week ago."

"Well, I'm sure blood, sweat and walker slime from down in that food bank basement hasn't helped any."

"No, it really hasn't."

Carl was still asleep in the office, so they all let him sleep. Michonne came out soon enough and took Judith while Georgie and Rick went off toward the bathroom. Gabriel still hadn't slept, while Sasha was seated, cleaning a gun in a different pew from where she had laid down earlier. There was enough room for only Georgie to stand in the bathroom, so Rick just stood there, leaning against the door frame while she lit a candle and set it on the back of the toilet tank to provide some lighting for inside the small, dark room. Turning on the faucet, no hot, or even warm, water came, but it was better than nothing. Grabbing the bar of soap a lot of them had already used, she cleaned some of the grime off it first before holding her hand out to Rick, gesturing for him to remove his shirt.

When he lifted it up over his head, Georgie stole a glance and liked what she'd seen well enough but gave no inkling that she had been thinking anything of the sort. Or, at least she hoped she hadn't. Rick remained there after he handed her his shirt and watched her lather it up with soap. While she rubbed the material together and then watched how a lot of the water began to turn brown, Rick made a face. He folded his arms and brought his nose in the direction of his armpits and made another face as his own expense.

Reaching forward, he picked up the bar of soap and stuck it and his hands under the water, momentarily getting in Georgie's way as their shoulders bumped into each other.

"Sorry," he muttered. Setting the bar back down on the sink, he brought his soapy hands under his armpits and gave them a quick cleaning, and then lathered up his arms somewhat.

Georgie realized he was trying to clean himself up a bit, too, and stepped enough so he could reach forward to put his hands back under the water in order to rinse himself off.

Smiling, Georgie wrung out his shirt and then brought it up to his face and wiped it clean for him before dragging it down to his neck. He just stood there, letting her do it, looking appreciatively at her. After that, she rinsed the shirt out again, as best as she could.

"I'll drape this somewhere to dry for a while and leave you in here to clean up whatever else might need cleaning," she spoke, letting what that 'whatever else' go unsaid, as she was referring to something of the more private nature.

Rick nodded with a small chuckle. "Yeah, okay, thank you."

Georgie nodded back at him and then walked over to the nearest pew and draped his shirt over it. Plenty of water still dripped from it onto the floor but that didn't bother her or anyone else. No one would care if there were water stains on the floor. Water stains were the least of their worries after the stains the church accrued the night before.

Rick walked out of the bathroom a short time later, looking considerably refreshed, and both Georgie and Michonne seemed to look on with approval. Everyone else seemed to follow suit after that, ducking into the bathroom to properly wash up over the sink; even Carl, once he woke up just before nightfall.

Once everyone was somewhat cleaned, and they had had a little something more to eat, Rick picked up his shirt, which was still quite damp, and put it back on. He shook slightly, the coolness against his skin giving him somewhat of a chill up his back. Taking Judith, he was feeding her when Michonne had gone outside for some fresh air and when Gabriel ducked outside a short while later as well.

It wasn't even five minutes later that Gabriel came back into the church, saying there was someone in the woods, but didn't know who.

Rick was quickly on his feet and handed Judith off to Tyreese, who was standing closer to him. Grabbing his gun, Rick hurried up the aisle, and Sasha and Georgie were right behind him. Opening the doors and stepping out into the darkness, the three of them found Michonne and Daryl, and someone young black man who looked to only be about twenty or so years old.

After nodding to Daryl, relieved he had returned, he nodded to the new guy. "Who's this?" Rick questioned, tensing slightly.

"I—I'm Noah."

"Carol?"

Daryl shook his head. "We followed a car, just like the one I saw take Beth, all the way into Atlanta. It's some hospital, Grady Memorial. They're picking injured people off the streets and taking care of 'em, but they won't let the people leave; making 'em work off the forced kindness showed to them. No better than indentured servants." He moved closer to Rick. "They took Beth there, and now they got Carol. They hit her with one of their cars."

"How do you play into all this?" Rick asked Noah.

"I was at Grady. They brought me in the same as Beth," he replied. "Beth helped me get away, but she wasn't able to."

"Beth's alive?"

Noah nodded. "Yeah." Then he added, "The hospital's being run by cops now."

"They had more people and weapons on their side, that's why we came back here," Daryl remarked to Rick. "We need to rally the troops and rescue Carol and Beth."

Rick fell silent a minute, running a hand over his mouth and beard as he stared of toward into the darkness. He was trying to process a plan in his head.

"Are the cops a physical threat to Carol and Beth?" Michonne asked, looking at Noah. "Will they be safe until tomorrow?"

"Yeah," he nodded again. "They should be fine for now. They have medicine and machines to take care of Carol's injuries."

Michonne turned to Rick. "Whatever is decided, we need to wait until morning. We can't go now. It's too dark and we don't have the upper hand."

"No, I know," Rick agreed. He sighed, placing his hands on his narrow hips. Looking to Noah, he gestured at the kid with his head. "You hungry?"

Smiling a little, Noah nodded a third time. "Yes, please, if you have something to spare."

Rick turned and looked over at Georgie. "Can you show him to some food?"

"Yeah, of course."

She was about to lead Noah inside — she'd even gestured for the kid to walk ahead of her — when Rick grabbed her wrist and held her back to whisper, "Keep an eye on him, though…just in case."

Georgie held Rick's eye as he slowly release his grip on her.

She nodded. "I will."

Turning, Georgie walked inside the church with Noah hobbling in front of her on what looked to be a bum leg, sprained ankle or something. Gabriel, Carl and Tyreese stood to greet the newcomer with curious gazes. Georgie made the introductions and the Noah began to explain how he knew the girl Beth, whom Georgie hadn't met yet. The girl had apparently been nabbed by a car with a white cross on the back window and she and Daryl were traveling together after the prison fell. She also happened to be that man Hershel's daughter and Maggie's half-sister.

"It seems like we mostly have an abundance of beans," Georgie was informing Noah with a smirk. "Baked, green, kidney…"

"Nah, that's okay. Beans is good eatin'," he smirked back, graciously taking can of baked beans that Gabriel had opened for him.

"Your leg hurt?" she asked. "Do you need a fresh bandage or something?"

"No, I just fell on it. I think it might be sprained. It's not cut or anything," he assured. "Thank you, though."

Georgie smiled and patted his shoulder. "Sure thing."

Tyreese passed Judith off to her then, just as he noticed Sasha heading back inside. He wanted to talk to her about something and Carl seemed tired again. Even though the boy had slept the longest of everyone during the day, it hadn't been consistent sleep. He'd woken up several times; his dreams getting the better of him. He wouldn't admit if they were nightmares or not though; trying to exude a tougher exterior for his father's benefit, no doubt. Georgie could tell Carl didn't want to put any more worries and burdens on his father's shoulders.

Rocking Judith in her arms, Georgie hummed a little as Rick and the rest of the group finally came back into the church as well, having been discussing more about the current situation at hand in further detail or catching Daryl up on the shit that had gone down in the last day.

Rick walked right up to her and smiled immediately at his daughter, leaning forward to cup the side of her face and kiss her forehead. "Daryl says he trusts Noah," he spoke to Georgie. "But what's your opinion on him? You getting a good vibe off him?"

Georgie shrugged and nodded at the same time. "Yeah, I am," she insisted. "I think he's just a kid who's trying not to seem scared, who wants something better like the rest of us. I doubt he's any sort of threat, if that's what you're wondering."

Rick tilted his head slightly, looking at Georgie. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Alright," he said quietly. "We're gonna just bunker down for the night, plan a little for tomorrow and then get some more sleep. Who knows the next time we'll get to take a moment to rest."

"Alright," Georgie echoed. "I'll keep Judith with me."

Rick nodded, agreeing. "Okay." He let his hand slip down her arm and began to walk away toward the others.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?" he looked back at her. "Tell Carl to go to sleep. He didn't sleep well today and he's clearly fighting it right now," she informed with a concerned smile. "He'll listen to you."

Rick's face became a little more serious and nodded appreciatively at Georgie. "Okay. Thank you."

* * *

The following morning, the church was being ripped apart as Daryl, Tyreese and Sasha built barricades in front of the church steps out of splintered pews and a stockade of organ pipes, all the while as Gabriel watched the desecration with dismay. On the sides of the church, Rick, Michonne and Carl boarded up the lower half of the windows while Georgie leaned against a tree with Judith in her arms once again. Georgie really wanted to help fortify the church as well, but Rick had asked her to take care of Judith, and she was happy to oblige. In caring for the little girl, she was doing her part.

She glanced over as Noah walked around, feeling a little out of place, which was to be expected for a newcomer to any group. Georgie had felt it initially, but she had joined at the same time as Abraham's group, so her beginning with Rick's people was less awkward.

The plan for rescuing Carol and Beth wasn't set in stone yet, it was a work in progress, but it was a trip that Rick, Daryl, Noah, Sasha and Tyreese were going to make. Georgie had assumed that was the group Rick had decided on and that he wanted her to continue caring for Judith here at the church, and she felt a little upset by it. Carol was her friend, Carol had saved her from dying alone on the roads, and Carol deserved as many people that could be spared to come to her aid.

While Rick was saying his goodbyes to Judith, holding her while he placed a kiss atop her head, Georgie was expecting the child to come back to her but, instead, Rick passed Judith on to Michonne and then hugged his son. Turning to Georgie last, slapped her arm gently.

"What you just standing around for?" he asked. "You coming or what?"

Georgie stood there dumbfounded for a moment. "Oh," she muttered. "I thought you wanted me here."

"I got things here," Michonne assured with a smile.

"I had this feeling like you might fight me if I said no to you about coming, so I just went ahead and skipped that part," Rick quipped.

"Why would you think I would fight you over it?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Maybe it's that whole fiery redhead thing you got going on up there," he added, flicking the bun on top her head. Gesturing to an extra bag of supplies and weapons off to the side that Georgie hadn't noticed earlier, Rick lifted his own backpack on. "That's yours. Get it and let's go."

Georgie grinned. Turning to wave goodbye to Judith and also to Carl, she walked over to the bag and lifted it up over one shoulder and headed outside as Rick closed the doors behind them, shutting Michonne, Carl, Judith and Gabriel inside.

Loading into the back of the truck with Tyreese and Sasha, Georgie sat down and waited until the truck revved to life and began to move.

* * *

In Atlanta, the truck was parked inside an abandoned warehouse. The group stood around Rick who was crouched down over a floor plan of the ward where Carol and Beth were drawn into the dusty ground, rattling off the plan.

"At sundown we fire a shot into the air. Get two of them out on patrol. Then once it's dark enough that the rooftop spotter won't see us, we go. We cut the locks on one of the stairways, take it to the fifth floor. I open the door, Daryl takes the guard out."

"How?" Tyreese asked.

Rick looked up at him and answered nonchalantly, "He slits his throat." After a moment, he added, "This is all about us doing this quiet, keeping the upper hand. They're not expecting us. From there, we fan out. Knives and silenced weapons. We need to be fast." He began to draw X's in the dust, where he wanted everyone. "Tyreese, Sasha, take them. Daryl and Georgie, you two take care of whoever is in the kitchen. I got Dawn. If they're smart, the rest of them will give up. Then it'll be six on three; _seven_ on three once we get a weapon to Beth."

"Twelve on three," Noah interjected. "The wards will help."

"That's best case. What's worst case?" Georgie questioned, looking at the others with arms folded. "All it takes is one of those cops going down the hall at the wrong time; then it's not quiet. All hands on deck. We're talking about a lot of bullets flying around."

"If that's what it takes," Sasha muttered.

Tyreese looked at his sister, and then at Georgie, following the latter's line of thinking. "It's not," he said. "If we get a couple of her cops alive out here, we do an even trade; theirs for ours. Everybody goes home."

"Yeah, I get it." Rick stood up, doubtful. "And it might work. This _will_ work."

"Nah," Daryl piped up, gesturing to Tyreese. That'll work, too." The archer then turned his eyes upon Noah. "You say this Dawn; she's just trying to keep it together, right?"

"Trying and doing are two different things," Noah said, as Rick looked between the two.

Daryl continued, "You take two of her cops away, what choices does she have? Everybody goes home, like he says."

All Rick could do was nod. It seemed the majority favored Tyreese's plan more. He accepted the deviation and they began to put the plan to motion. Rick had moved toward a window shortly after. They had a slight view of the hospital from there. Wiping his hands on his pants, Rick turned his attention away from the window when he sensed someone approaching.

It was Georgie.

"You still prefer your plan, don't you?" she asked with a knowing smile. "And it _was_ a good plan. Tyreese's just happened to be better."

Rick sighed. "Well, majority rules, right?"

"A good leader listens to his people."

"A good leader doesn't have to like what his people say."

"You're not gonna pout are you?" she teased.

"What? No." He smiled despite himself. The smile didn't last long, though.

"This is gonna work," Georgie assured. "We'll get Carol back and we'll get your other friend Beth back. We'll get them both, head back to the church and then we'll all go off and meet up with Abraham and the others. We'll head to DC." Turning slightly, she leaned up against the brick wall and held his eye. "We got a better world to look forward to."

"I hope so."

* * *

The initial gunshots had been fired and soon enough there was a cop car chasing Noah through an alleyway, where they cut him off by clipping him with the car. Noah tumbled back as a male and a female cop jumped out of the car and trained their guns on him, telling Noah to put his own gun down. Limping away, Noah obliged and put his hands up in the air and turned around as the male cop bound his wrists with restraints.

"Where's those rotters you were shooting at?" the male cop asked.

Rick whistled as the group approached with their weapons aimed at the cops. "Hands."

"What do you want?" the female cop asked. Both her and the male cop had spun and aimed their own guns at the group.

"Whatever this is, we can help," the male cop insisted.

"You do what we say, we don't hurt you," Rick informed.

The male cop considered and then held his hands up. "Okay," he said, as the female cop looked at him and then followed suit.

"Good," Rick nodded. "Now turn around. Put your guns on the floor and kneel."

The cops continued to obey as Sasha picked up the female cop's gun and pocketed it while Daryl grabbed the male cop's gun and handed it to Georgie. Daryl then took restraints from Sasha and bound the male cop's hands behind his back while Sasha did the same thing with the female after getting the restraints from Tyreese that had been around Noah's wrists. Georgie walked over and picked up Noah's gun and handed it back to him when his hands were free again.

"We need to talk," Rick said to the cops. "There's water if you need some and food."

"Mind if I ask you something?" The male cop asked as Daryl pulled him up to his feet. "The way you talk the way you carry yourself—were you a cop? Believe it or not, I was, too."

Noah walked up to Rick and muttered, "That's Lamson. He'll be down for this. He's one of the good ones."

Suddenly, a second car came screeching into the alley, causing the group to scatter slightly so they wouldn't be struck, but they aimed their guns and began firing at the grill and windshield. When the car kept its course, the group ducked out of the way, taking cover. Rick had to pull Georgie out of harm's way just before a bullet flew by her ear into the brick wall of the building behind her. She looked at him wild eyed for a moment, her 'thank you' unsaid but expressed as they both turned back toward the now parked cop car and fired at the windows.

The two bound cops were able to climb into the car which sped away moments later, with the group still firing after them. Sasha was able to take out one of their tires in the process.

Following after the car, the group moved out of the alley and into an open area which was blocked off. The car doors to the car were opened and the entire area seemed charred from the bombings that had taken place in Atlanta after the outbreak. What was more was that there were dozens of pinkish, skeletal walkers melted to the asphalt. Rick held a hand up for them to pause for a moment so they could assess their surroundings before he gave the go ahead for then to move forward.

Stepping around the carnage, the group noticed Lamson and the female cop running off, so they began to run after them.

"Two, on me," Rick said.

He and the others continued on while Daryl hung back. When Georgie realized he wasn't with them, she doubled back, only to find Daryl being choked by the third cop. Quietly, she hurried up to the cop and hit him with the butt of her rifle. He fell back, long enough for Daryl to scramble away. Before the cop could get back up to his feet, Rick appeared, shooting the head of a walker near Daryl, causing the cop to cease whatever he was about to do.

Rick had noticed Georgie was gone the same way she had noticed Daryl was.

The third cop threw his hands up. "Okay. You win, asshole." He got to his feet, watching as Rick kept his gun trained on him.

Georgie reached a hand out to Daryl, helping him up, while watching how Rick neared the cop.

"Rick. Rick!" Daryl called out. "Rick, three is better than two."

Rick smiled at Daryl, liking those numbers. He lowered his gun while Daryl restrained the cop.

"Thanks for the back-up," Daryl continued, glancing first to Georgie and then to Rick. "Both of you."

"Don't mention it," she replied. She had her rifle lowered as well, now hanging off her shoulder by the strap as she walked up to Rick with a grin. "Whoa there, cowboy."

He gave her a side glance; his own smile continuing a little. "What does that make you? Annie Oakley?"

Georgie rolled her eyes and snickered. "Hardly." As they walked into the building nearest them, she turned back to Rick. "We forgot this morning; what do you miss?"

"Oh shit, yeah," Rick remembered. As Daryl moved ahead of them with the cop, he thought about it for a moment or two. "Going to a Falcons game." Off Georgie's chuckle, he asked, "What do _you_ miss?"

"Swimming in pools."

Rick nodded. "Maybe we'll find one of those in DC."

* * *

It turns out the female cop was called Shepherd and the asshole Georgie had gotten away from Daryl was Licari. Once in the warehouse, Shepherd explained that the group's hostage plan wouldn't work because Dawn didn't consider them valuable on account of their ongoing plot to overthrow her. Lamson, however, assured Rick the trade would work if they talked to Dawn in the correct manner.

"Let me help you," he offered, claiming a kinship with Dawn, having known her for eight years.

Shortly after, Lamson counseled Rick on negotiating with Dawn; explaining that Dawn would initially balk at the hostage deal, but would ultimately agree. Rick thanked Lamson and offered him water. When Lamson mentioned his first name was Bob, Georgie had overheard and noticed the way Sasha looked the cop's way and how her previous hardened exterior seemed to give way to some softness once again. Sasha took guard of him while the others prepared to head out.

However, when they returned, they found Sasha on the ground, bleeding and unconscious. Lamson had made an escape and was clearly the culprit in Sasha's injury. Tyreese was at his sister's side immediately, trying to bring her to, while Rick clenched his jaw and fists and took off.

The group could easily assume what happened next wouldn't be ideal for the runaway cop, not with Rick on his tail. And, when Rick returned about fifteen minutes later, without Lamson, the group looked at him and then at each other. Sasha was awake then and Georgie was trying to wipe her wound with a cloth she had found in the destroyed FEMA trailer outside. Georgie handed the cloth off to Sasha and then got up to walk over to Rick, who had pulled Daryl aside. She wanted in on their sidebar, whether they liked it or not.

Rick glanced at Georgie as she approached. "He wouldn't stop," he informed, referring to Lamson.

"This change things?" Daryl asked, holding onto his rifle over his shoulder.

"It has to."

"Maybe not," Georgie offered.

Rick whispered, not seeming to mind one bit having Georgie in on this tête-à-tête, "She said the plan won't work. The guy who did is dead. Maybe we gotta rethink this."

"They also said the cop in charge didn't have any love for him."

Daryl shrugged, "Maybe you did her a favor."

Rick fidgeted and looked toward Shepherd and Licari. "I don't know if they'll play ball."

"Let's find out," Daryl suggested.

The three sauntered up to the others; Georgie hanging back slightly, though, to let Rick take his reins.

"He was a good man," Shepherd spoke up. "He was attacked by rotters. Saw it go down."

"Huh." Rick was impressed. "You're a damn good liar."

"We're hanging by a thread here. He was attacked by rotters. That's the story," Shepherd insisted.

"You said the trade was a bad idea," Daryl remarked. "What changed?"

"Lamson was our shot. So it's this or you go in guns blazing, right? You don't want that."

"If this is some bullshit you're spinning, and things go south—" Daryl pointed a finger at her, getting a little angry.

"I know. I know the good ones from the bad." Shepherd looked directly at Rick. "Let us help you."

Rick considered, and then looked at Licari. "What about you? You wanna live? How much?"

"Dawn's afraid she'll look weak in front of us," Licari offered up. "Thinks it'll tip things against her. Hell, it will. She'll see this trade as a rip-off if she thinks you took out one of our guys. So it's a good thing Lamson got aced by rotters."

Rick smirked, but just barely, as he turned around and looked at Georgie and Daryl; both who seemed down with the plan at hand.

* * *

Later on, the group, except for Rick, was on the roof with their guns trained below, watching as Rick approached a cop car with his hands up. Georgie's rifle didn't have a scope on it so she had to squint and try and make out the details and pray her aim was that good from that far away if shit hit the fan real quick.

Because Rick was on the roof of a parking ramp, surrounded by other buildings which were slightly taller, his voice bounced off all those outer walls; allowing the rest of the group to hear him talking well enough.

"Officer Franco, Officer McGinley; I'm Rick Grimes," he greeted. The cops had hopped out of their car with their guns aimed at him. "I was a Deputy in the King County Sherriff's Department. I'm here to make a proposal."

"Lay your weapon on the ground."

"Alright," Rick obliged, crouching slightly and placing his Colt on the concrete before standing back up, slowly and carefully.

Georgie glanced at Daryl for a moment before fixing her attention back toward Rick. She watched how he turned around to reveal he had no other hidden weapons, before facing the other two cops again who approached him.

"What's your proposal?"

"You have two of my people, I have two of yours. We want to make an exchange. Then we'll be on our way. No one gets hurt."

"Who?

"Officers Shepherd and Licari for Beth and Carol. You picked up a woman yesterday after your people hit her with a car."

"Noah, he's with you? That's how you know?"

"Yes, he is."

"What about Officer Lamson?"

"He was attacked by the dead before we got to him."

Georgie whispered to Sasha, giving a nod of her head. "Walker."

"Where are your people?" one of the cops asked, as Sasha fired a silenced gunshot into the walker's head, dropping it.

"They're close," Rick continued. "Radio your lieutenant. I'll wait."

* * *

Rick was given the confirmation that the exchange would go forward. Their group followed Franco and McGinley back to the hospital, where they were let in. They held tight to their guns while Franco led the way. Shepherd and Licari were still bound with their hands behind their backs and the group kept their wits about them as they traipsed carefully and quietly through the halls and then single file up flights of stairs to the fifth floor.

By the time they reached the double doors to the ward, Georgie felt as though she could cut the tension in the air with a knife. She was standing behind Rick so she couldn't see through the narrow windows in the doors into the hall beyond where the other cops, Carol and Beth were supposed to all be waiting for them. Georgie could also feel her nerve endings under her skin beginning to dance.

"_Holster your weapons_," came a woman's voice across Franco and McGinley's radios.

Rick turned to the group. "You, too."

Georgie slung her rifle over her shoulder and made sure her hunting knife and her handgun were properly put away, as she now wore a holster on her belt for the latter.

The doors were opened, Franco and McGinley walked out first, followed by Rick who held onto Shepherd, then Daryl with Licari, and then the rest of the group. The hospital cops up the hallway from them parted and allowed the petite blonde teen, who Georgie assumed was Beth, rolled Carol forward in a wheelchair. Georgie breathed a sigh of relief, somewhat, to see that Carol was okay.

"They haven't been harmed," Rick called out.

"Where's Lamson?" the female cop, presumably Dawn, asked.

Shepherd answered, "Rotters got him."

"We saw it go down," Licari added, sticking to the lie.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that," Dawn remarked. She didn't sound too sorry, though. "He was one of the good guys. One of yours for one of mine."

"Alright," Rick agreed, nodding to Daryl, who shoved Licari forward.

"Move."

As Daryl and Licari went halfway up the hall, a cop from the other end picked up a bag and pushed Carol the other half. Daryl took the bag and then took over pushing Carol back to the group. Then, Dawn, personally, took Beth by the arm and led her forward while Rick did the same with Shepherd. Rick reached for Beth and placed his lips comfortingly against the girl's temple, relieved to have her back in the group.

Georgie looked on with a small smile forming as she reached out and gave Carol's shoulder a squeeze; happy this exchange was going so well.

"Glad we could work things out," Dawn commented.

"Yeah," Rick nodded as the group began to disperse. They got what they came for and now they would leave.

"Now I just need Noah." Everyone stopped; the tension back. "And then you can leave."

Rick turned around, angry, as he walked forward. "That wasn't part of the deal," he said, as Noah hobbled behind him.

"Noah was my ward. Beth took his place and I'm losing her, so I need him back."

"Ma'am, please, it's not—" Shepherd began.

"Shepherd! My officers put their lives on the line to find him. One of them died," Dawn continued.

Noah moved to walk forward but Daryl pushed him back. "No, he ain't staying."

"He's one of mine. You have no claim on him."

"The boy wants to go home, so _you_ have no claim on him," Rick informed.

Georgie instinctively let her fingers reach toward her handgun, just in case. She felt like she was going to have to use it and her nerve endings were beginning to fray amidst the tension.

"Well, then we don't have a deal."

"The deal is _done_," Rick bit out.

"It's okay," Noah insisted, hobbling forward.

Rick stuck his hand out at the kid. "No. No."

"I got to do it." Noah removed his gun and handed it to Rick.

Beth stepped forward a bit. "It's not okay."

"It's settled," Dawn stated.

Noah walked off as Beth stormed forward. "Wait!"

"It's okay," he assured Beth as she hugged him.

Dawn turned and looked at Noah commenting smugly, "I knew you'd be back."

Georgie gave Carol's shoulder another squeeze and the older woman lifted her hand up to take Georgie's to hold, both glad to see each other and both feeling tense over the current situation. They all watched as Beth released herself from Noah's arms and walk up to Dawn, standing directly in front of her. The meek girl Beth had initially appeared as to Georgie, now seeming to stand strong and confidant. Noah took his cue and begrudgingly walked to join the cops behind Dawn and Beth.

"I get it now," Beth spoke.

It happened all so fast.

Beth seemed to stab Dawn with something and a gunshot rang out just as the back of Beth's head blew open. A large hole appeared at the top of her head, blood splattering out, as Dawn gasped at what she'd done, and she wasn't the only one who reacted as shocked. _Everyone_ did. Instant shock quickly gave way to horror and anger and grief.

As the poor girl's lifeless body crumpled to the floor, Rick could be seen wiping Beth's blood from his face as Daryl stormed up to Dawn and shot her right in the forehead. Dawn's body fell back to the floor next to Beth's and then suddenly everyone was raising their weapons, preparing for retaliation on both sides.

"No! Hold your fire!" Shepherd shouted, holding her arms out at her sides to keep the other cops back. "It's over. It was just about her." She pointed at Dawn. "Stand down."

The Grady cops lowered their weapons, but Rick's group did not. Carol walked up to Daryl, who was sniffling and crying, placing a hand to his shoulder. Merely from behind, the others could tell how devastated he was. Georgie had never had the chance to actually meet the girl, but if her death could make a man like Daryl cry, she must've been something special to the group.

Daryl lowered his gun then, turning toward Carol but look down at Beth as Rick seemed confused and at a loss for words as he looked around everything and anything. Sasha and Georgie both leaned against Tyreese; tears were lining every eye as they tried processing what had happened.

"You can stay," Shepherd offered.

"We're surviving here," the doctor in the back added. "It's better than out there."

"No." Rick shook his head. "And I'm taking anyone back there who wants to leave. If you want to come with us just step forward now."

Only Noah did, walking past both Dawn and Beth's bodies. Rick touched a hand to his shoulder as he continued on toward the very back of Rick's group. Her motherly instinct kicking in, Georgie reached out her hands to Noah and pulled him into a hug. She could tell Beth had been his friend, not just the girl who had helped him initially escape from the hospital.

"I'm sorry," Georgie whispered to him.

"So am I," he replied, grateful for the hug.

They watched as Daryl crouched down, still crying and doing his best to keep his shit together, as he lifted Beth's body up into his arms. Without words, the group turned around and walked away; through the double doors, down the other hallway and then to the stairs they had come up shortly before. Only sniffles and footsteps could be heard as they made their way to the ground floor. Georgie had been bringing up the rear with Noah when they stepped outside.

The sound of a woman screaming in grief rippled through Georgie's bloodstream when she finally saw that it was Maggie, who had dropped to the ground in despair.

The other half of their group was there, too; Glenn, Abraham, Michonne, Tara, Rosita and Gabriel. Georgie assumed Eugene, Carl and Judith were inside the big, bloody firetruck parked outside the gates that hadn't been there when Rick's group had first gone into the hospital.

Daryl brought Beth over toward her sister and everyone just stood there, just as at a loss for words as Rick had been.

Georgie looked up at the sky.

It was a bright, sunny evening out.

How deceptive.


	9. Greensboro

"_You can always find a distraction if you're looking for one."_ – Tom Kite

* * *

After Beth died, and the initial shock had worn off for the group, the grief and despair set in. Making it worse was finding out Eugene had lied about a cure. Everyone was dealing their new situation in their own way. Maggie seemed inconsolable. Glenn did what he could to be there for her but sometimes he had to leave his wife to mourn alone. Daryl got angry, kicking shit around and practically seeking out walkers to kill, merely to get his frustrations out. Sasha was still hurting over Bob and with Beth's demise so fresh, she was burying her grief deeper down until someday when she would just blow a gasket.

After burying and having a funeral for her, which was presided over by Gabriel, Rick led a supply run with Glenn, Daryl, Georgie and Sasha before night fell. Georgie wanted to come simply because the mourning atmosphere was too much, and she felt awkward, not having known Beth to begin with. They made camp outside the city, built a fire to keep warm and hunkered down in their caravan of vehicles for the night. After Judith was laid down to sleep in a cardboard box lined with someone's shirt, the adults lowered their voices when they chose to talk. Waking the baby would mean she might wake up crying and they didn't know what exactly was out there in the trees. They didn't need extra attention drawn to them right now.

Carol and Georgie sat side by side in front of the fire, with Georgie asking what it had been like in the hospital. Carol couldn't give a good account of her short time there because she had been unconscious during most of it. She said that Dawn had seemed decent enough from what very little she had seen and heard of her. Carol, like everyone else there, hadn't been expecting what happened to happen. It had been the last thing from her mind.

As most began to tuck away to sleep for the night, Daryl maintained his position on the perimeters of their temporary camp, keeping watch alongside Abraham and Tara. Rick, who had been talking to Noah, got up and walked to another edge of their camp with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

Georgie noticed him out the corner of her eye and got to her feet to go join him.

"What's the plan now?"

Rick looked at her and sighed. "Noah said Beth was gonna go with him to where he's from, to Richmond."

"Virginia?"

"Yeah," Rick nodded. "He says it was secured when he left. There were walls, and it was home to twenty people. I know it's far away, but it's an option and it's what Beth wanted to do. I think we owe her to at least go check it out. It could be a place for all of us to lay our heads and call home for as long as possible."

"We were planning on going to DC," Georgie remarked. "Richmond is closer than DC. I think it's a good idea."

"Yeah? Even though your son—"

"My son is probably dead, Rick. If I haven't found him by now, I don't think there is any hope of finding him anymore," she interrupted. "I think my husband was right. I need to face reality and just move on. I need to face the fact that my son died during that camping trip when the outbreak happened. He probably turned into a walker and wandered deep into the woods with the others, that's why I never saw his body with most of the boys at their campsite."

Rick turned and furrowed his brow at her. "What about having hope? Just because there was no body, doesn't mean he's dead."

"Just because there was no body, doesn't mean he's alive, either."

"You can't—we can't think like that. Even though Eugene lied about there being a cure, I'm starting to think getting away from Atlanta is the better option," Rick commented. "We need to see if there's anything more out there. Hell, maybe DC is still an option in some way. We don't know and we won't until we see for ourselves."

Georgie shrugged. They both turned and looked silently out toward the darkness within the trees. The crackle of the fire behind them offered a comforting din of sound to compensate for the lack of actual conversation in their camp. And, to be honest, it was nice to just stand there. Everything was calm and quiet. There were no walkers attacking, there were no guns firing and there were no screams of pain and sadness.

Rick stole a glance at Georgie out the corner of his eye, studying the curve of her jaw and shape of her nose and the way her upper lip looked slightly puffier than her bottom lip. Her ginger curls were down around her shoulders and rather buoyant, and they practically glowed like gold from the firelight reflecting on the back of her head. When Rick began to wonder what holding her tight and smelling her skin would be like, his mind snapped him out of his daydream and he looked forward again; mentally chastising himself.

Now was not the time for thinking such things.

Then again, he'd never had the time to think about anything like that in regard to _any_one since before Lori died. Her body had been in the ground barely a year, which made him feel guilty about entertaining thoughts of another woman in his head, even if things between him and Lori had been rough long before she died. Not saying he didn't love his wife. He did, with all his heart. It was just felt more like a chore than a marriage sometimes; at least more than was normal for a marriage.

He knew you it was never good etiquette to speak ill of the dead, and he was sure _thinking_ ill of the dead was probably looked down on, too, so Rick tried thinking back to Richmond and the group and his children.

"I think I'll tell everyone about Richmond first thing in the morning, so we can get on the road, bright and early; make the most of daylight, y'know?" he said aloud to Georgie who still stood there beside him.

"Sounds good," Georgie nodded.

The pair turned and looked at each other again and Rick immediately felt a pang of guilt when he did so. Georgie really did look something pretty in the glow of firelight. Subconsciously, Rick touched his hand to her wrist before she walked away without bothering to say goodnight. It was something that didn't need saying.

Rick turned back toward the camp, at everyone either taking refuge beside the fire or in the array of vehicles to sleep; those that weren't keeping watch that is. Digging at the ground with the heel of his right cowboy boot, he gave a quiet sigh.

* * *

Ideally, the group could've gotten to Richmond in just under eight hours. However, there were too many factors to take into account. Gas for the vehicles was a rare commodity and they often ran out and had to go off and find other vehicles to syphon from. Also, their route was occasionally blocked off by abandoned vehicles or herd of walkers, which meant taking detours which got them lost once or twice. They also stopped to sleep or go on runs for extra supplies. Then there was the issue of everyone still dealing with their grief and Eugene's lie. Their moods were down and their hopes all seemed dashed. There was no real ambition for going to Richmond, but it had been something Beth wanted, and Rick wanted to see it through. That's what he kept telling people and it seemed enough to keep them going.

They had made it out of Georgia, which felt a little surreal at first, then through South Carolina and most of North Carolina when their fuel ran out on a rather deserted road. It was the wee hours of the morning and they were somewhere outside Greensboro, North Carolina. Up the road about a hundred yards there seemed to be some sort of side street that branched off the main road and Rick thought maybe it led somewhere that might have some vehicles they could once again syphon gas from.

Rick, Daryl, Sasha and Abraham went off to inspect.

They weren't gone twenty minutes when they returned with empty fuel cans but smiles.

Georgie hopped out of the white, '89 GMC Suburban she had been riding in with Rick, Tyreese, Sasha, Carl and Judith. She held onto the door and looked at the foursome approaching with curiosity.

"Everybody, grab your things," Rick announced.

"What—why?" Rosita asked from another vehicle behind.

"We found someplace to stay for a while until we can gather up enough fuel and more supplies," Abraham replied, his rifle resting over his shoulder by its strap.

The group all seemed to look at one another with hesitation before finally conceding. Gathering up their belongings, they followed Rick, who had taken lead as was usual and expected, on foot. When they turned onto the side street, which was quite overgrown, everyone's guards were up tenfold, just waiting for the off chance of walkers coming out from the trees. On one side of the road was what looked to be a driveway; it was blocked by two cars which seemed to have crashed into one another at some point. Each car had a walker in the driver's seat and both were clawing at their rolled up windows when they sensed movement on the road.

The group ignored those walkers and continued to follow Rick who brought them to the end of the road. It was a short wall, gated, and beyond the gate was a long driveway that led up to a very large house.

"It's a damn McMansion," Tara remarked at the sight. "Holy shit," she added as she peered through the gate.

"Is it open?" Michonne wondered, holding Judith, and referring to the security gate.

Rick turned and smiled at her. "Yeah." He reached out and pulled the gate open. It creaked slightly. "When we're able to get fuel for the vehicles, we'll pull them in here," he informed as they all began to walk up the long driveway. "There's plenty of open space to park them."

The grass in the front yard was considerably overgrown and the driveway was littered with old, fallen leaves from the autumn before, but it was one of those driveways that circled around directly in front of the house and even had a fountain there, although it no longer ran. The front doors were tall and made of solid wood. The first floor windows seemed to go from floor to ceiling. The outside was a greyish-white brick and the landscaping was just as overgrown as the grass.

Twisting the doorknob, Rick pushed the door open and walked right in without bothering the pull his gun from out of its holster. If _he_ didn't feel the need to be armed then neither did anyone else. Even Daryl stepped inside with his crossbow slung over his back.

"We already checked for occupants," Rick called over his shoulder as the others followed him in. "Both living and not."

"Place is like a graveyard," Daryl quipped.

They entered into a large, two-story foyer. The staircase was one of those that split, two on opposite walls from each other but still leading to the same second story. To the right was an archway that led into a formal living room and to the left looked like a den or home office; something like that. Straight ahead, under the second story landing that connected the stairs, was a formal dining room.

"There's six bedrooms; upstairs, one down here," Rick informed. "We haven't checked to see if there's running water, but there's more than enough bathrooms, too." He turned and looked at the group who were a bit struck dumb by the grandeur of the interior. "It's big enough for all of us not to be on top of each other, it's clean, and it's safe. That fencing at the front gate goes all around the property. There's plenty of tree coverage, but even if there were walkers, it'd be real difficult for them to get over the fence; the thing is sturdy as all hell." He scanned everyone's faces. "I think we should stay here for a while."

"What about Richmond?" Noah asked from the back of the group.

Rick nodded, understanding the young man's concern. "We will go to Richmond, I promise, but we've just had a lot of shit happen to us recently and we haven't had a moment to breathe. We've been on the move nonstop and we need the time to process and regroup. We _will_ go to Richmond. We will check it out and if it's still standing and, if it's safe, we'll settle there. If it's not, we'll come back here. Richmond's only about two hundred miles away. That's not too far."

"It's far when we don't have gas in our vehicles," Glenn remarked.

"Which is why we're gonna set up base in this house, and go for runs to collect everything it is we need before we continue on," Rick clarified. "We _need_ this right now." After a moment, he added, "Why don't y'all go check the place out? We'll see what we can gather from here first before venturing out."

After a moment, the group began to disperse. A few went straight to the kitchen to search for food while most went upstairs to check out the bedroom and bathroom situations. Others merely poked around, looking at the interior as a whole and wondering who had been in the house last. There were signs that an indeterminate amount of people may have been living in the house approximately five to seven months before, judging by dirty dishes left in the sink and by the layers of dust coating most surfaces. Whether it was the home's original owners or a group like them, or both, no one knew. And no one knew where they'd gone or what happened to them.

Rick was right, though. The place seemed very safe, and there was plenty of room for everyone. They wouldn't be on top of each other if they didn't want to. While there wasn't heat or electric, there was running water, even if it was cold. There was even an upstairs pantry filled with clean towels, shampoo and bars of soap. They would all be able to get showers or baths and they were excited about that, even Maggie and Sasha who were still lost in their grief.

Carl was the most amusing to watch going throughout the house. He ran up and down the hallways, checking everything out. He'd found a few board games they could all play, and there were comic books in one of six bedrooms that had twin beds and clearly belonged to one or two boys around his age. There was even a closet full of clothes that Carl could fit into.

In fact, all the closets seemed to be full of clothes and shoes. It was going to be wonderful to get out of the clothes they had been wearing for what felt like forever, wash the stink and grime off and just feel fresh.

"There's a pool!" Carl squealed when he looked out the dining room window.

Pulling open the French doors to a backyard patio, the young teen hurried outside and stood at the edge of a long, in-ground pool which was covered by a dark blue vinyl cover, which was covered with countless dead leaves.

The others walked out onto the patio as well; all more amused by the look on Carl's face than by the fact there was an actual swimming pool. However, there was a bump in the center of the pool that moved and they all got leery, wondering if it was a walker that had somehow got trapped underneath and been unable to get out.

"Let's open it up," Carl suggested.

"Hold on, Carl," Rick said, holding up a hand. "There could be something under there." He gestured at Glenn to help him grab the vinyl cover and pull it off the water.

Slowly, the vinyl cover was removed, with some of the leaves falling into the water. As everyone waited with bated breath for the big reveal as to what the bump was, they held onto whatever weapons were still on their possession and that they hadn't already set down inside of the home. Then, when the cover was at about halfway off, with Rick and Glenn grunting over the weight of the damned thing, suddenly a soccer ball splashed out from underneath and glided across the surface of the water.

The group sighed breaths of relief and then looked at the pool with smiles.

Aside from what leaves had fallen in, the pool was clean and clear, although probably cold as all hell.

Rick and Glenn walked back toward the group after bunching the cover up at the opposite edge of the pool from where they had started. Rick scratched at his head and then put his hands on his hips before looking at Georgie.

"I told you we might find a pool along the way," he smiled.

Georgie nodded and smiled back. "That you did."

Off to the side, Carl looked antsy; barely able to contain his excitement. Looking up at his dad, he asked, "Can I?"

Rick just smirked and waved at the pool. "Go right ahead."

Grinning from ear to ear, Carl took a few steps back and then ran, jumping right into the pool, but not before shouting out, "Cannonball!"

The splash ricocheted back at the group who laughed. Carl popped back up, reaching for his father's sheriff's hat that had floated off him and then shivered.

"Cold, buddy?" Abraham asked.

"Oh yeah," Carl confirmed, his teeth chattering. "But it's awesome."

Noah looked at the others, and then to Carl before grinning. "Ah, what the hell…" he remarked before jumping in beside Carl.

Both teens laughed and began splashing each other in the face with the cold water. Though, considering how warm it had been and how dirty they were, it must've felt refreshing, even with all their clothes still on.

The adults just kept watching the pair as Tara jumped in, sinking under the surface and popping back up moments later; squealing from the cold when she did. Rosita slapped Abraham on the chest, and then she jumped into the pool. Eugene walked up to the edge of the pool and looked down at the water, a few feet away from where the other four were. Looking over his shoulder at the group, who didn't seem that engrossed in what he was doing, Eugene jumped in as well, to somewhat of a surprise to the others. The group began to look among each other, wondering who would jump in next.

Maggie and Sasha seemed to not care about the pool at all; too depressed to find any joy. They wandered back inside the house while Abraham looked over at Rick.

"You know what?" he asked rhetorically. "Fuck it."

With that, Abraham jumped into the pool, whipping his head up as he resurfaced and then swam over to Rosita to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder. Gabriel smiled and took a seat at a patio set while Tyreese, Daryl and Carol remained on the sidelines, with Carol holding Judith; neither feeling in the 'festive pool party' kind of mood. Glenn and Michonne were next, jumping in at the same time and that left Rick and Georgie.

"You're the one who wanted the pool," he commented. "Yet, here you stand."

"I know, I think I'm enjoying watching everyone else enjoy it."

"Bad excuse," Rick remarked, giving her a push.

However, just as she fell forward, Georgie was able to hook her hand around his wrist, as her body turned slightly, and pull him into the pool with her. Both of them crashed under the surface and it felt like a million ice picks jabbing their bodies. The water soaking their clothes made them sink slightly and it was hard to move from the added weight once they came back up for air. They looked right at each other, water rolling down their faces, and smiled.

Despite Daryl's own depression he was still feeling in regard to losing Beth, he was the only one – between him, Maggie and Sasha – to find amusement in the others in the pool. He crouched down at the edge, pulling off his boots and socks, and then rolling up his pant legs before sticking his feet in the water.

"Damn, this shit's colder than a witch's tit in January." Pulling out a pack of cigarettes he had found at some earlier point, he stuck one between his lips and lit it while he watched the others splashing around. When Carl came near him, threatening to splash him, Daryl removed the cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at the boy. "You splash me and I'll put you down in your sleep."

Carl smirked and moved along, instead splashing his father.

Eventually a few games of 'Chicken' were played. Georgie lost both times she participated. The first time she was on Glenn's shoulders and they had been up against Abraham and Rosita. Her second time, she was on Eugene's shoulders and was up against Rick and Michonne. The longer they were in the water, the more their body temperatures acclimated to the cold and it felt a little better. It also helped take their minds off the storm of shit their lives had been for too long, even if just for a little while.

After about an hour and a half, most began to clamor out of the pool, walking across the patio, feeling as if they weighed a thousand tons from their water-logged clothing. If they had layers that could be peeled away without revealing their intimates, they removed them. The men could get away with going shirtless.

Soon enough, everyone that was in the pool had made their way out of it and then back into the house to dry off or duck into one of the house's four bathrooms to shower off what the pool water didn't wash away. They had all been able to change into pajamas; actually something comfortable to sleep in. They then went searching throughout the house for food that would be stashed away, and all anyone could find was a box of stale crackers and a small can of mandarin oranges shoved way back in one of the cupboards. It wasn't enough to sate everyone's appetites. It literally worked out that each person only got one cracker and one mandarin orange to eat. There was plenty of running water, though, so there was that.

They tried not to think about their hunger by keeping themselves busy. They foraged the house for other supplies; batteries, weapons, first aid supplies. But those items were hard to come by as well. There were Band-Aids in one medicine cabinet upstairs, a bottle of Motrin and the knives in the kitchen where weapons were concerned. Disenchanted by their findings, they turned to figuring out the sleeping arrangements.

Carol suggested Rick take the master bedroom with his children. There were two generic bedrooms with queen-sized beds in them. Maggie and Glenn were offered one, as they were the married couple, and Abraham and Rosita claimed the other as the other couple within the group. A teen boys' bedroom with the twin beds was divvied to Tyreese and Sasha, while the fifth bedroom, which was a teen girl's room and had one queen-sized bed was taken by Carol and Georgie who agreed to share. The last bedroom, the sixth one, was on the main floor and had two full-sized beds which Michonne and Tara laid claim to. All that was left was Daryl, Eugene, Noah and Gabriel. There was plenty of couch space in both the living and family rooms, so Daryl and Noah claimed opposite ends of a wraparound couch in the living room while Eugene and Gabriel settled on taking the couch and loveseat in the family room.

Once everything was agreed upon, Maggie excused herself and went up to the room she was going to share with Glenn, who followed after her. Abraham and Rosita went to make the best of a nice bed, and Sasha disappeared upstairs as well. Whether any of them were going to be doing any sleeping was anyone's guess. The others remained downstairs, occupying themselves with card games or one of the board games Carl had found, like Monopoly and Candy Land.

By nightfall, the group had more or less dispersed to their rooms or couches, except for Daryl and Carol who chose to sit outside and talk. They all said goodnight to each other, nevertheless; all looking forward to the best night's sleep any of them had probably had in a long time.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Rick found himself staring up at the ceiling. Carl was on the opposite side of the bed and Judith was tucked carefully between them; both children fast asleep. Rick's mind was reeling with too many thoughts for him to be rendered unconscious. He wasn't even underneath the covers, as if he was expecting to need to jump up to his feet for a fight or to protect his family at a moment's notice.

It didn't help that he could hear Abraham and Rosita having sex in one room while Maggie was crying, presumably in her sleep, in another room while Glenn's muffled voice was obviously consoling her. Maggie was still very devastated by Beth's death, and her father's not too long before that and had been prone to bouts of sobbing quietly in the eleven days since Beth's death. Rick felt a pang of guilt, wishing and wondering if there was something he could've done. There were so many ifs, ands and buts but none of it could change the past now. What's done was done and he had to live with the decisions that had been made, the same as everyone else. They'd all done things they might not be proud of, but it meant they were all still alive to tell the tale.

That's all Rick wanted; to keep everyone alive.

But right now, he couldn't sleep.

Quietly and gently, he slung his legs off the edge of the bed and sat up, gripping the edge with his hands. He stared at the floor for a minute and then over his shoulder at his son and daughter before standing. Casually he strode over to a mirror and looked at his haggard reflection, but looked away when he didn't feel like looking himself in the eye. Instead, he exited the bedroom soundlessly and stepped through the upstairs hall.

He couldn't help but smirk and shake his head at how Abraham and Rosita still managed to be going at it. All the power to them, he figured. The sound of shuffling around downstairs pulled his attention away from the lovebirds, and Rick made his way to the first floor, gripping the railing of one of the two staircases as he went.

With the stealth of a cat in the dark, Rick made his way toward the kitchen where the sound was originating from. There was no weapon on him for him to grab, should he need it, but was relieved when he saw that it was only Georgie fiddling around at the sink.

She had her back to him and didn't seem to know he was approaching. Instead of making himself known just then, he chose to stand there quietly; watching her from behind.

Georgie's ginger curls bounced around her shoulder and between her shoulder blades, almost as if each strand was dancing. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of men's boxer shorts, and Rick wondered if all the available women's pajamas had run out and that was what she was left with when the other women in the group laid claim. He glimpsed at her bare legs and smirked, but then felt like a creepy voyeur for staring so he cleared his throat to alert her to his presence.

Whipping her head over her shoulder, Georgie jumped slightly, but when she realized it was just Rick, she smiled. "Oh, hey," she greeted. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"Nah," he shook his head and approached. Leaning his right hip against the counter, he locked eyes with her and then furrowed his brow when he grew curious as to what she was puttering around with in the sink. "What are you making?"

Georgie grinned as she looked into the sink at an old, gallon milk jug. "I found one Kool-Aid packet and half a cup of sugar in the pantry down the hall," she informed. "It's not much but I figure I could make some semblance of Kool-Aid for Carl and Noah. I mean, I think we all forget they're still just kids, even if Noah is, like, nineteen or whatever. I understand they need to be treated like adults in this world now, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't let them be kids once in a while, too, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do." He watched her place the cap on the jug and given it a shake to mix the contents of the Kool-Aid packet and sugar with the water. "What flavor is it?"

"Sharkleberry Fin, apparently," she chuckled.

Rick made a face. "Sounds…interesting."

"It won't taste like much. A jug this size should get two packets and two cups of sugar, but it's better than nothing."

"No, it's great. Thank you for doing this."

Georgie shrugged. "It's nothing."

Rick inched closer as she set the jug back down in the sink. "No, it's _not_ nothing," he insisted. "You're finding a way to bring some stability into my kids' lives, to _all_ our lives. It means a lot to me. And I know I keep saying thank you for these things you keep doing, like watching Judith, helping with those people from Terminus, going with us to get Beth and Carol, or even making Kool-Aid, but I mean it." He watched how Georgie shied away from his gratitude. "You're part of this family of mine now. You know that, right? You've become an extra maternal figure in Carl and Judith's lives and I just need you to know it's more than appreciated."

Georgie bit her lips together and tried to hide her grin. Rick inched closer again and she wasn't blind to it. She lifted a hand to grip the edge of the sink as she casually looked him in the face. She couldn't put a finger on it, but there was something there in his eyes that riled up some butterflies in her stomach. She could practically feel his body heat the closer he got to her. She watched as he tilted his head somewhat and then brought his own hand up to cover hers. Their fingers intertwined a little.

"I'm glad Carol found you," he reiterated a sentiment he had made to her at Gabriel's church. Then, "I'm more glad you stayed, especially after everything that's happened these last two weeks."

Georgie shrugged again. "I'm glad to be a part of your group."

Rick's hold on her hand softened as he moved his hand up her arm a little. Whether it was a subconscious gesture or not, she didn't know, nor did she apparently mind. She could feel the heat emanating off his body again and her skin felt like it was on fire the closer he seemed to get. She figured that had she been some teenage girl, her knees might've buckled from the attraction she was suddenly feeling for him in full force. Georgie was just glad it was dark enough in the kitchen that he couldn't see how badly she was probably blushing right then.

Just as he began to lean in toward her face with his own, Eugene appeared in the archway separating the kitchen from the family room. His mullet was in disarray from tossing and turning in his sleep. His presence caused Rick and Georgie to move apart from each other as they looked at the interloper.

"Sorry if I'm intruding on a private moment," Eugene muttered. "I just needed to drain the dragon."

Both Georgie and Rick made the same face, suggesting Eugene's comment was both too much information that they need as well as being amusing. When 'Mullet Man' – as Georgie still called him in her head – had gone off in search of the downstairs bathroom, Georgie and Rick looked back at one another.

"I should, uh…go back upstairs in case Judith wakes up and Carl wonders where I am," Rick excused himself. He offered her a smile, squeezed her hand and then walked off, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

When he knew he was out of eyesight, he gave a shake of his body as chill ran up his spine. It wasn't the chill felt when one was cold, it was a chill of…something else. Whatever it was he was feeling made him smile, though, like that of a teenage boy who almost got to first base.


	10. Fire And Rain

_"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain." ― _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

* * *

The dining room table in the house was large and made of mahogany that seated ten; eight on both sides and two at the ends. It allowed most of the group to sit around it together. Plus, there were four more chairs from the table in the kitchen that had been brought into the dining room for extra seating. It really only left two people without chairs, since Judith was content on her father's lap. Daryl had left the house very early that morning to go hunting and Sasha chose to wander around the property with her rifle to keep watch, which meant everyone that needed a seat, had one. They were seated there, talking, planning out the day in regard to searching for food, supplies and gas and who would be doing which of those things.

Abraham, Rosita and Tyreese decided to go looking for gas for all their vehicles, while Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, Tara and Noah decided to go look for food and supplies. Eugene and Gabriel weren't much in the way of help, so they were asked to stay put and to, more or less, not fuck with anything. Georgie mentioned the driveway at the beginning of the road they had passed the previous morning, which was blocked by those two cars, and that they could check out the house there for supplies as well. Rick nodded, agreeing that was a good plan, and offered to go with her while asking Carol to stay with Carl and Judith. Once everyone had their tasks, they left the table and went off to change out of the pajamas they were wearing, which was still so strange and nice to be able to do, and change into regular clothes they swiped from the closets. The fact that there was something for everyone to wear, except Judith, could practically be construed as a miracle.

Rick appeared shortly after in a new — to him — pair of jeans and a rust brown colored T-shirt, pulling his belt on with the holsters for his weapons. His jacket was back on as well when he approached Georgie who was standing at the base of one of the two staircases. Carol was seated on the third step from the bottom with Judith on her lap and smirked up at Rick when he walked down the stairs beside her.

"Lookin' good, Officer Grimes," Carol quipped. "No longer living up to your last name."

Rick shook his head, trying to hold back a smile. "Not lookin' so bad yourself, Carol."

"Why thank you."

Georgie looked between the pair and just chuckled slightly. She was very happy with the clothes she had found for herself. Especially the black leather jacket she had gotten to, beating Rosita to it. Standing confidant in a pair of black jeans and a blue V-neck shirt underneath the leather jacket, Georgie hooked her thumbs into her pants pockets.

"Ready?" Rick asked her.

She patted her hunting knife sheathed on her right hip and a Beretta 92FS holstered on her left hip. "_I_ am, are _you_?"

Rick smirked. On left was his red-handled machete and on his right his Colt Python. "I am."

After he kissed Judith on the head, Rick and Georgie walked out the front door, side by side. Neither was saying anything about the night before in the kitchen, but it was somewhat obvious it was on both their minds by the way they maintained a slightly awkward silence with each other.

At the end of the driveway, Rick unlatched the gate, allowing them slip out before latching it back up. Their silence remained until about halfway down the road when they spotted the listless walkers in both cars blocking the other house's driveway up ahead.

"Should we put 'em down?" Georgie suggested.

Rick shook his head. "They ain't goin' nowhere." When they got right up to both cars, he gestured to the driver's side door of the one. "My guess is this guy was leaving and got T-boned by the woman. There are old tire tracks on the road, behind the car. She must've been hightailing it onto this road. It was enough to fatally injure them both so that they both died and turned. No other walkers would've gotten in or out of the vehicles to bite them. The guy's driver side door is pinned against her grill. He couldn't accidentally climb out if he tried."

Georgie was looking at Rick now more than both cars. She smirked at the way he had one hand on his hip and pointed around with his free hand, all official-like. "You really _did_ used to be a cop, didn't you?"

He caught on to her meaning, tilted his head a little and smiled. "Is it obvious?"

She shrugged. "It's just in the way you carry yourself, how you talk sometimes. Even how you can tell how this wreck was caused. You've probably been at the scene of plenty of car accidents before, am I right?"

"I have." After a moment he gestured to the male walker's car. "We'll need to climb over to get through."

"Okay."

Georgie went first. She hopped up onto the hood and then climbed up onto the roof as Rick followed after her. Once they were on the trunk, they jumped down and looked back at the car and how the male walker was trying to turn and reach for them to no avail.

Up the long driveway they went to this second house, which was a red brick Georgian style home with large white columns in the front. Just like the one they were all staying in, the grass and landscaping was overgrown and many dead leaves covered the ground. The garage was situated off to the side and, from what they could tell upon approaching, one of the two or three bays was opened. Rick suggested they go in the house that way, since the male walker had obviously been from this house and, if he had been leaving in a hurry, would've exited from the garage entrance and left it unlocked.

Rick went first this time, turning the knob and pushing the door open slowly. Georgie stepped inside behind him and they found themselves in a mudroom off the kitchen. Balling his fist, Rick banged on the wall and whistled in case there were walkers inside the house; to lure them out so they could take care of them first before continuing on.

No walkers came out and they breathed a sigh of relief. However, they still remained on guard. Just because the downstairs was apparently safe and clear, didn't mean the upstairs would be. They weren't about to count their chickens before they hatched.

Once they stepped out into the open area of the kitchen, they went straight for the cupboards; pillaging for canned goods. There weren't much of anything; no more than ten or eleven cans. Though, there was a box of pancake mix and something else that would prove useful. Georgie climbed up onto the counter to reach far back into the cupboard, pulling out another box and smiling as she did.

"What is it?" Rick asked.

She turned and showed it to him. "Powdered milk," Georgie replied. Giving the box a slight shake, her smile faded considerably. "Well, there might be a third of it left. Still, it's something." She sat down on the counter and gave pause for a moment. "We can mix it with water. It'll give Judith something more than just water to drink. Should last us maybe a week; two if we use it sparingly."

"Same with that pancake mix." Rick pointed at the other box. "Stove don't work but there's pans in the cupboards back at the other house, and a fireplace. We can build a fire, mix that in a bowl, pour it on the pans and hold the pans over the flames." Georgie grinned at him, and he at her. "We'll eat like paupers."

Georgie laughed. "Better than we have in weeks."

"Yeah." Rick lined up the cans and the two boxes on the kitchen island and then leaned up against it, looking back at Georgie as she remained seated on the counter. "Almost forgot; what do you miss?"

Maintaining her smile, Georgie stared up toward the ceiling in thought. "Hmm, lemme think." She could feel his eyes on her as she did so, and knowing it made her skin feel flush. "My iPod; just listening to music, in general," she finally answered. "What about you?"

"Going to the movies," he replied. "I used to be all about the action flicks; the bigger the explosion and death toll the better. But now I'd give my left kidney for a romantic comedy."

The two of them began to chuckle, thinking about how nice both their answers were.

"It doesn't even have to be a new movie," Georgie remarked, adding to his reply. "If we had electricity, we could find some DVDs; watch them on that big, flat screen TV in that house."

"If only," Rick smiled ruefully.

"If only," she repeated.

Offering his hands to her, Rick helped Georgie down from the counter. They turned their focus back to looting the house of supplies, and especially something to carry it all back to the other house with. Georgie looked in the bottom cupboards and a few downstairs closets for plastic bags or those reusable linen bags everyone had starting using more of in the last decade before the outbreak. She found two rolled up above the fridge when she backtracked to the kitchen from a downstairs hall. There wasn't anything else on the first floor they could use or needed, so they made the wary trek up the stairs to the second floor.

As a precaution, Rick withdrew his machete and aimed it in front of him. He stopped just before the top step and hit the wall with the blade, whistling once more and shouting out 'hey' to draw out any walkers that could be upstairs.

They both held their breaths and listened.

Silence.

Rick looked back over his shoulder at Georgie and nodded, signaling the coast was clear again.

Splitting up, Georgie went left and Rick went right.

"Keep the doors open, so we can hear each other, just in case."

Georgie nodded and headed off alone, first to a bathroom that came up empty of any supplies, like shampoo, soap or even disposable BIC razors for the ladies. Next was a little girl's room which looked as if it had been turned upside down by a tornado at some point. The drawers of the dresser were pulled out and clothes piled and scattered all over the floor, nothing that would fit Judith, but then Georgie smiled. She spotted an oversize teddy bear wearing a onesie.

"This'll do," she muttered to herself.

Crouching down she picked it up and then sat down on the bed to remove the onesie from the stuffed animal just as Rick poked his head in.

"Now's not the time for playing with toys," he teased.

Georgie lifted her head and snickered at him. "No, it's wearing a onesie. Judith could fit into it. It's cute, too." She successfully pulled it off and showed it to him. "See?"

"That _is _cute."

Narrowing her gaze at him, Georgie asked, "Are you making fun of me being excited about this?"

"No, I swear," he replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "It is very cute."

Georgie wasn't entirely convinced, but smiled at his insistence. "We might be able to use some of the T-shirts on the floor here. They'd be more like nightgowns on her, but it's still something."

Rick simply smiled back at her in response. "I didn't find anything in the two rooms down the hall except for a dried out stick of deodorant."

"We could soak it in water; get some moisture back into maybe so it'll work again?"

He shrugged. "There's not much to it anyway." Watching as she stuffed the onesie and a few T-shirts into her bag, Rick gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "There's one more room over here we should check."

Rick looked to his left at a closed door about ten feet away. Out the corner of his eye he could tell Georgie had stood up to join him, but not before swiping a smaller teddy bear off the dresser for Judith. As they walked down the remainder of the upstairs hall, they noted the door to the last room wasn't shut all the way, which felt a bit suspicious since the rest had all been left open.

Using his machete once again, Rick pushed the door open with the tip of its blade and hesitated before peering inside the room. Before either could even take a step inside, they were hit with a horrible stench, followed by the sight of a woman, dead and decaying on the bed in what was clearly the master bedroom.

Covering their nostrils with their hands, they approached slowly and saw that the woman had a gunshot wound to the forehead. Old, dried blood was painted on the wall above the headboard, which now looked brown rather than red, and there was also a dried pool of blood around her head that had soaked into the mattress.

"I think he killed his wife and ran," Georgie gasped, trying to avoiding inhaling the scent through her nose. "I wonder if she was even a walker when it happened."

Rick looked at her and shrugged.

"I don't think we'll find anything in here," she continued. "Her husband or whoever is in that car back there probably took what was useful."

"Yeah, you're probably right. We should check the master bath first though, just to be sure."

"Alright," Georgie agreed. She followed him into the bathroom which was considerably larger than the one out in the hall.

He pulled back the shower curtain in hopes of finding shampoo, conditioner and/or soap; anything to help with hygiene. Georgie opened the medicine cabinet and found a bottom of aspirin, a box of Band-Aids and some ointment to treat rashes; shoving them all into her bag while Rick crouched down beside her to open up the doors under the dual sinks.

"Toilet paper," he announced, glancing up at her.

"We'll eat like paupers tonight and wipe our asses like princes," she quipped, inciting a laugh out of Rick.

Once he stood up, they gave each other a nod and then covered their noses again before leaving the bedroom.

"Wait," Georgie spoke.

Rick turned back to watch her grabbed the duvet and pull it over the woman's body, covering her face in the process.

"Okay," she continued. "Let's go."

Once they made their way back downstairs and then into the garage, Rick began rustling around the work bench. He nicked a bottle of lighter fluid and some matches. Nothing else was of importance to them.

Slowly, they walked back down the driveway toward the collided cars.

"If he had a gun to shoot his wife in the head, and he fled…I didn't see a gun in the house," Georgie remarked. "He probably has one with some ammo in that car.

Rick stopped walking and looked at her. "You're probably right." He stared at the back end of the car before them and considered the option at hand. After a moment, he handed his bag over to her. "Take this."

Grabbing a solid hold on the machete, Rick vigilantly approached the passenger side of the car which was unable to be open since the car was pushed up against a short stone pillar that 'announced' the end of the driveway. Instead, Rick pulled at the back passenger door, but to no avail.

"Damn child safety locks," he mumbled.

Pausing for a few seconds, he looked back at the passenger door before taking off his jacket and wrapping it around his right hand. Pumping himself up slightly, he then punched the window with his fist, which shattered from the force he exerted. It also probably helped that the window was already cracked from the crash. Pushing away the broken glass, he then dropped his jacket to the ground and grabbed his machete. Sticking it forward, he shoved it through the walker's head as it tried reaching for him. The walker fell forward on the wheel and suddenly the horn sounded.

"Shit," Rick spat, leaning inside the car further to push the walker back off the wheel.

Jumping back away from the car, Rick whipped his head around to see if the sound had alerted any possible nearby walkers. Georgie was doing the same when they made eye contact. Turning back to the car, Rick leaned back inside and grabbed a bag off the passenger seat and pulled it out. Dropping it onto the driveway, he crouched down and zipped the bag open.

Sure enough, there was a single handgun with a box of ammo. Rick smiled up at Georgie over the find.

"Good instincts," he remarked.

She just smiled back. She then nodded over at the woods to their right. "Why don't we go through there and then get back onto the road. It'll be easier than clamoring over the car again with these bags."

Rick nodded. "Yeah, okay." Lifting the walker's bag over his shoulder, Rick also picked up his jacket before taking the extra bag back from Georgie before putting his machete back through its loop on his belt.

Quietly, they entered the trees and stepped carefully as the ground became somewhat steeper as they went. Pushing branches out of their way, Georgie and Rick came upon a rabbit not a few feet away, mere moments after beginning their trek into the woods.

"Where's Daryl when you need him?" Georgie quipped.

"Hunting little ones like that."

Smirking, Georgie stopped walking completely and set her bag down onto the leafy ground. Crouching down, she placed a hand between her knees to maintain her balance as she looked at the rabbit and tutted at it to get its attention.

"I used to have a pet rabbit when I was about ten years old," she recounted. "We kept it in a cage outside, and then that spring this freak tornado rolled through town and the rabbit's cage went flying. Our roof was blown completely off, but what I thought was most amazing was that we found the rabbit's cage two houses down and the rabbit was alive and completely unharmed." Georgie stood back up and placed her hands on her hips. "And yet there was this old man one street over who was in his living room when a random wooden post that had been uprooted from someone's fence busted through his window because of the winds and impaled him to his recliner. Talk about luck of the draw, huh?"

Rick made a face. "Damn."

"Yeah," she nodded. "Makes me wonder about this world we live in now all the more. Like, as in why it happened? Was it biological warfare, was it an accident, was it an act of God? Or, maybe, one too many people refused to forward those stupid chain letters."

Rick let out a chuckle. "Definitely the latter."

There suddenly didn't seem to be a rush to get back to the house. They hadn't been gone long and weren't expected to return anytime soon. Rick leaned back against a tree and looked at Georgie, watching as she had smiled at his response. Then, all at once, the image of her the night before wearing that oversized T-shirt and those boxer shorts came back to his mind.

"Is it weird to almost feel safer out here in the open than in that house, even as nice as it is?" she asked, running a hand through her unruly ginger locks.

Rick shook his head. "No, it's not weird. I think we're all just so used to being out in this," he gestured to the trees surrounding them. "In there, it's a reminder of what we ain't got no more, what we've had taken from us."

"And then it reminds us of how dangerous the world has become," she added. "Nature's always been nature. But houses are mausoleums now. Sometimes I forget how to…I dunno."

Pushing himself off the tree, Rick nodded, agreeing with whatever it was she couldn't find the words for, as the pitter-patter on the leaves above them distracted them for a moment. When drops of water soon fell on their face, they looked upward, realizing the sky had become overcast and it was now raining. It wasn't a heavy rain; it was probably nothing more than a passing rain cloud which would be gone in a few minutes.

Rick brought his attention back to Georgie as rain clung to their hair, slowly beginning to mat it down, while the water also began to roll down their faces. It felt nice and refreshing, but it didn't distract Rick enough to remove is attention completely away from Georgie who was standing there with closed eyes. And he couldn't help it; he found himself a little enthralled by her. He hadn't felt this way about a woman since in the earlier years of his marriage to Lori. It was a heady experience that got his blood pumping.

When Georgie reopened her eyes and found Rick staring at her, she felt a wave of heat run through her body. Her face flushed with color, she was sure of it. Her amused expression due to the rain faded to something more serious and a little anxious as she bit her lips together.

That same energy in the air they had begun to draw them near each other the night before was returned, and this time it was tenfold.

Rick tilted his head, dropping his jacket and the bags to the ground. He stepped right up to her this time without any hesitation until his face was only inches from hers. They locked eyes for a moment, and then his lingered down a little to stare at her lips and her skin felt like it was now on fire. Instinct was slowly taking over as she reached her hands out and touched the dampening material of his T-shirt covering his abdomen. His lips were parted slightly and she could feel his warm breath against her face. Casually, he lifted his hands and then, without warning, leaned all the way in and claimed her lips with his own.

His bushy, graying beard tickled her chin, making her smile into his kiss. Impulsively, Georgie snaked her hands around his waist and pulled her up against him and he went with the gesture. He walked her back into another tree, pressing her up against it as he deepened the kiss, tasting her tongue upon his; exploring this new territory and feeling as though every nerve ending in his body was sparking to life like the encore of a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. Their hips pressed against each other; his enjoyment becoming more noticeable, which in turn set her body more alight.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, while somehow rough and hungry at the same time. It was the perfect combination and who knows how much further it would've gone…

…Because a familiar groan and haggard shuffling snapped them back to reality.

They both turned to find a walker was about to be on top of them.

They had been so engrossed with each other that they had not seen or heard it approaching until almost the last minute.

At the same time, both Rick and Georgie pulled out their machete and hunting knife, respectively, and lunged forward, jabbing them into the walker's skull. As they removed their blades, the walker slumped back onto the ground like a sack of bricks. Their attention returned once more to each other, their faces close but now they were more alert of their surroundings and they were in more control of their libidos.

Rick opened his mouth to say something, and then Georgie did, but no words came out of either.

Quietly, they sheathed their blades and picked up the bags of their findings.

Leaving things unsaid for the time being, both began to walk off toward the house.

* * *

It was a few hours later and all their food findings were lined up on the kitchen table. Rick and Georgie still hadn't broached the subject of their kiss in the woods; not that they had the opportunity to talk about it once they returned to the house. Maggie, Glenn and Tara had returned a while later with a small bag of canned goods which included mostly spam.

"It's not much, but I found maple syrup," Glenn revealed, pulling it out of his bag to show the others. "It's never been opened, so it's gotta be good still, despite what the expiration date would like you to think."

Georgie chuckled. "What do you know? Rick and I found pancake mix."

"Whoa, seriously?" Glenn grinned. "Wow, I haven't had pancakes in forever. We're gonna make some, right?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, we'll do it over the fire later," he said, taking a swig of water from a glass he'd grabbed from one of the cupboards.

A short time after that, Abraham, Rosita and Tyreese returned with gas for the cars. They had then taken the fuel containers with them to fill the tanks in their vehicles they'd left out on the main road the morning before and when the cars came driving down the road, Rick and Carl were waiting at the base of the driveway to holding both sides of the gate open. Georgie was holding Judith by this point and watching as father and son walked back up toward the house, behind the cars which parked around the paved circular part of the driveway surrounding the fountain.

Rick and Carl seemed to be talking about something which brought a smile to both their faces, which in turn made Georgie smile. When the Grimes boys got nearer, Rick gave his son a playful shove in the arm and then looked up at the house, letting his eyes settle on Georgie and Judith.

Rick stopped and placed his hands on his hips, taking everything in; the sight of Abraham, Rosita and Tyreese smiling as they hopped out of the vehicles and made their way back into the house while Carl ran over to Georgie and grabbed Judith from her, placing a kiss on his baby sister's head. That left Georgie and Rick still alone outside and he began to close the distance between them.

Once they were both standing on the front stoop together, Rick reached a hand out and took hers, giving it a squeeze. He looked over her shoulder at the front door Carl had left open and he knew anyone could walk by and see at any moment, but he felt compelled nonetheless.

Georgie looked up at him, and she felt rather peaceful for the first time since before the outbreak happened. She closed her eyes when Rick leaned in, brushing his lips against hers and pressing his forehead to hers; his beard once again tickling but she made no mood to suggest it had.

No words were exchanged between them.

None were needed.

Rick pulled back slightly before leaning forward again just to plant a small kiss upon her cheek near her ear. He then gave her hand another squeeze and gestured for her to head back inside the house first.

* * *

"I know you said not to fuck with shit while y'all were out getting supplies and whatnot," Eugene said just before nightfall. Everyone was more or less gathered around the dining room table again, this time eating the pancakes Georgie and Carol had managed to make over the fire in the living room's fireplace. "But I went lookin' around this house; thought maybe there was stuff in the attic that could be of use, but I only found dust and boxes filled with photo albums and other odds and ends like that. But, I did find something of interest in the basement I think was overlooked yesterday during the initial sweep of this house."

All eyes trained on the man with the mullet.

"What's that?" Abraham asked.

"There's a false door down there," Eugene answered. "I opened it up to a small hallway with a door at the end. I was thinking maybe it's filled with more food and supplies."

Abraham looked across the table at Rick. "Sounds like something we should look into."

Rick nodded. "Definitely."

"There's only one problem," Eugene continued.

"There always is," Sasha mumbled.

Eugene looked at her and then over to Rick. "It's bolted shut, and not just with a deadbolt. Someone bolted it all the way down on both sides."

"So then we grab an ax and hack it apart at the middle," Glenn suggested.

"It's a metal door, Jack Torrance."

"Alright, well, there's a garage here; there are power tools that run on batteries I'm sure we can use," Rick commented. "If there's something we can use in there, we need to know."

"Are we not going to talk about the fact that someone clearly didn't want that door opened? Whoever did it, they went through a lot of trouble to keep it closed." Maggie looked around at the others. "I mean, who deadbolts a door from the outside unless you want to keep something in?"

"Either way, we need to know what's in there; whether it can harm or help," Michonne piped up.

After dinner, Carol and Georgie cleaned up the dishes, which felt weird to be able to do. They had boiled water over the fire in the fireplace so that they had hot water for cleaning the dishes and they couldn't help but smile at doing basic chores like that. Meanwhile, Rick and most of the others had gone downstairs to inspect this supposed door. During that time, Daryl finally returned with a handful of squirrels and one rabbit; the latter of which got Georgie smiling. It made her think back to the rabbit she and Rick had seen in the woods earlier in the day, and then that kiss with Rick that had followed.

"You're dripping blood on the floor," Carol chastised at Daryl. "Bring it over the sink."

"Seriously? We've walked around cover in our own stink and walker guts before and you're worried about the tiling?" he question with a shake of his head, but also a hint of a smile in his eyes. He obliged Carol anyway and then grabbed a towel which he threw to the floor, using it to wipe up the trail of blood drops with his foot. "Ya happy, woman?"

"I am," Carol grinned.

Georgie looked away toward the fridge went something white underneath it caught her eye. Crouching down and reached a hand down.

"I didn't get no blood over there, so it wasn't me," Daryl commented, noticing Georgie's movements.

"No, it's not that," she replied. Pulling at the object, she picked up a piece of paper that must've fallen loose from one of the magnets on the fridge door. "It's a child's drawing."

As soon as she stood up and looked it over, Georgie let out a scream.

* * *

From downstairs in the basement, Rick heard the scream and his first instinct was to run toward it. Pulling his Colt out of its holster, he flew up the stairs with a few others behind him. In the kitchen he found Carol with her arms around Georgie and Rick's brow furrowed in concern.

"What is it? What happened?"

Carol just looked calmly over at Rick and offered a kind smile as Georgie pulled away and turned to look at Rick with tears in her eyes and rolling down her face. She, too, was smiling, which only served to confuse Rick and the others.

"What's all the screamin' for?" Abraham demanded.

Wiping the tears away, Georgie walked up to Rick and handed him the child's drawing. "Look."

Hesitantly, he took it. At first glance, it was just a simple picture drawn with crayons of a family. There was a daddy, a mommy and two kids. On closer inspection, Rick could see the mommy's hair was red and curly and the names above everyone's heads were listed as 'Daddy', 'Mommy', 'Me' and 'Avery.'

It took a moment, but it finally registered with Rick. He looked back up at Georgie and smiled. "Is this—?"

Her smile grew bigger.

"My son drew this," she replied, placing a hand to her chest. "My son was here, and he drew this."

"Are you sure?" Abraham questioned.

Georgie looked at him and rolled her eyes. "My hair is red and curly, so is the mom in this drawing. Also, my daughter's name was Avery. What are the chances? Seriously…" She looked back at Rick. "My son was alive when he was here. I mean, there's no one here now, but that means he was with people. They left, but he's alive."

"Or he was when this picture was drawn," Abraham continued. "Ain't nobody been here in almost six months, at least."

"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "He's alive. This…" Georgie looked down at the drawing Rick was holding and tapped it before looking back up at Rick. "This is the hope I needed. Tristan is alive. He's gotta be."

"No, yeah," Rick nodded. "Whoever was here with him, they probably stayed here for a while like us, and moved on. Maybe they were headed to DC, same as we were."

Georgie let out a sigh of happiness, taking the picture back. She then looked around at the other faces staring at her and felt sheepish. "Sorry for screaming like that. I didn't mean to give any of you a scare. I just got so excited."

They didn't look upset though, but instead they looked happy for her as well. This was the first time Georgie had seen Maggie and Sasha truly smile since Bob and Beth died.

"It's okay," Maggie assured, stepping forward and placing a hand on Georgie's shoulder. "This is a good thing. I think this is something we all need to be happy about."

The others dispersed; either heading back down to the basement to see about how to open the door and a few went to the garage to find tools that might work. Daryl pulled out a knife from his gear and proceeded to skin the squirrels and the rabbit over the sink while Carol looked at Georgie and gave her a hug again.

"Your son made it out of Georgia and he was alive and well; well enough to draw this picture," Carol offered with a smile. "I hope he's still well."

Georgie nodded. "Thank you. I do, too."

Rick touched her elbow then and asked to see the picture again. When she gave it to him, he walked over to the fridge with it and stuck two of the magnets on it to hold it up for all to see. He then stood back to admire it when he noticed Georgie pulling something out from inside her shirt that she must've had tucked away in her bra for safe keeping. The gesture, in itself, held Rick's attention. He then watched as she stuck two photographs to the fridge underneath her son's drawing. One was of a little girl, no more than three years old, with red curls like Georgie, but much shorter. The other was a school photo was of a boy, about six or seven years old, with blonde hair, smiling at the camera with one of his upper teeth plainly missing.

"Those your kids?" he asked.

"You've had those pictures all this time?" Carol wondered, impressed.

"My bra was the only place I knew they'd be safe," Georgie nodded. "I rarely ever took them out, even to look at them." She then looked at Rick briefly before pointing at the pictures. "That's Avery, my daughter. That was taken at her third birthday party. And that's my son Tristan in his second grade school picture."

"Cute kids," Daryl commented, having turned his attention away from his skinning. He threw a look over his shoulder at Georgie, giving her a nod of approval.

"Yeah they were." Then, she corrected, "_Are_."

Carol touched hand down to Georgie's arm and then excused herself. It was starting to get a little late and she was going to get Judith from Carl and give the little girl a bath. Daryl returned to what he was doing and everyone else seemed engrossed in other activities. Eugene and Gabriel were playing checkers in the family room where they would once again be sleeping that night and when Georgie and Rick cast a glance their way, they seemed to link up to the same wavelength; once again thinking back to last night and just how close they've become in the last day.

"You wanna get some fresh air with me?" Rick asked her.

"What about that door in the basement?"

He shrugged. "They'll manage without me. Too many hands in the pot or something like that."

Georgie looked around. No one else seemed to be paying attention to them. "Yeah, okay."

Rick led them outside and he pulled up two patio chairs for them to sit on.

They were quiet while they sat there, both looking off toward the tall trees surrounding the back of the property. Above the trees, in the night sky, the stars were infinite and shined brightly. The pool water before them was still and calm from no wind or breeze to ripple the surface, except there seemed to be the occasional bug that touched the water in spots to drink, but it was hard to tell for sure in the darkness. Crickets sang together in the overgrown grass and with all the candle light coming from inside the house which was shining out through the windows onto the back patio, it felt like any other night before the apocalypse; peaceful and free of the constant death and dangers they had all come to know in the last year and a half.

Up in the sky, unseen to the untrained eye was the moon. It was a new moon, so there was no light from the sun shining off it to the earth below. There was the outline of the moon though and with no light pollution from the planet anymore, spotting the darkened moon was an easier task than it would've been in the past.

Rick pointed it out first and Georgie followed his gaze, but only for a moment. She looked back at him, how he sat back in the chair with the ankle of his right foot cross over the knee of the left leg, and then at his profile.

He sensed her eyes on him and turned his own to her. Tapping his fingers on his chair's armrests, Rick smiled a small smile at her. "Your daughter looked just like you; just as pretty as her mama."

Georgie grinned and looked down at her hands. "Yeah, she did. Tristan is all his daddy; down to the blonde hair and blue eyes. Basically, your typical all-American boys," she quipped.

Rick opened his mouth to say something his own children; how he thought Carl was the perfect blend of him and Lori, but his thought process ceased when he considered Judith. She was his daughter, in heart and in name, but he would never be one hundred percent certain if she was his daughter by blood or if she was Shane's. He supposed time would tell when she got older. So, Rick kept his mouth shut. It was not something he felt like bringing to the table just yet. Instead he felt the need to talk to her about their kiss in the woods and the smaller two kisses they shared outside the front door after the others returned with the fueled-up cars.

Just as he went to say something about it, anything, a large cloud rolled in, shielding the stars from view.

"Looks like rain again," Georgie commented. She sniffed at the air. "You can smell it."

Rick did the same, and then nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, pushing down his idea of talking about their stolen moments.

Then, the clouded opened up and spilled out its contents upon them. They both initially flinched, but made no move to get up and head back inside the house. Instead they simply stayed put. As the rain once again seeped into their clothing and clung to their hair — and beard in Rick's case — they looked at each other and chuckled a bit.

The rain felt wonderful.

Reaching her hand out, Georgie offered it to Rick and he took it as he smiled at her with kind eyes and a hint of desire within them for good measure.

Turning their heads back up toward the sky, they tilted their heads back, closed their eyes and let the rain fall.


	11. Waiting For The Other Shoe

_"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone."_  
― John Steinbeck, _The Winter of Our Discontent_

* * *

Rick finally slept better that night, although it was a dreamless sleep. He lay on his side hugging Judith to his chest while, this time, it was Carl who lay awake staring at the ceiling. After all the good moments the group had experienced in the last two days, and considering all the bad they've been experiencing for what felt like forever, Carl couldn't feel as if he could mention to his father the doubts he was feeling. He couldn't bring himself to share the feeling of dread in his stomach, as if the other shoe was about to drop. He still believed there were good people in the world and there was still a chance the world could get better; maybe not tomorrow or even a year from now, but eventually, if they all survived to see it happen. It was just from personal experience in his young life during this apocalypse, everything good that happened didn't last long. It was only a matter of time before it fell apart. He wanted his father to believe he was okay and not as jaded as he was, so Carl said nothing, although it still ate at him sometimes, like this moment which was keeping him awake.

Rolling over to his side, he slid off the bed and quietly, as not to wake his father or sister, Carl crept out of the bedroom and made his way down the hallway to the stairs; silent as the grave. He looked around, inspecting each room downstairs. Daryl and Noah were out cold in the living room and Gabriel and Eugene were just as asleep in the family room off the kitchen. The latter was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Carl was surprised Gabriel wasn't up because of it. Turning back toward the foyer, he stopped when he saw a figure seated at a desk in the den.

Peering inside, he watched the flicker of a candle flame illuminate Georgie's face as she hunched forward, looking at something on the desk's surface.

"Hey," Carl called out in a whisper.

Georgie snapped her head up and smiled when she saw him. "Hey," she repeated. "What're you still doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Like father, like son it would seem," she chuckled.

Carl shrugged. "My dad's asleep right now."

"He wasn't last night. Couldn't sleep then," she informed. "He had too much on his mind, I guess. Do _you_ have too much on your mind?"

"Sorta."

Georgie gestured to the small sofa against the wall for him to take a seat. "Wanna talk about it?"

Carl shrugged again. "Not really," he answered, sitting down, pushing a pillow out of the way. "What are you looking at?"

Smiling, Georgie lifted up her son's drawing and her kids' pictures as an answer.

"You miss them a lot, don't you?"

"Very badly," Georgie nodded. "I lost my hope there for a while, but finding this picture renewed it. I just…I'm not a religious woman, never have been, but I pray to God that my son survived leaving this place, this house, and that he is still out there surviving in the world, wherever he may be."

"How did your daughter die?" Carl didn't know the full story and he was interested.

Georgie wasn't really in the mood to divulge the details again. "My brother got bit and never told me. I left my daughter near him and he turned and bit her."

"Did you put them both down?" he asked sympathetically.

Georgie nodded. "Yeah, and it's nothing I wish on anyone."

"Where was your husband? Did he die?"

She narrowed her gaze and smirked at Carl. "You sure are nosy tonight," she teased.

"Sorry. You don't have to answer."

Georgie shook it off. "It's okay," she assured. "My husband left to go to Atlanta without us. He didn't think our son was alive and I wanted to stay in our home and wait it out a while longer."

"So he could be alive, too, like your son?"

"Well, I _did_ find his truck with the keys still in the ignition and the door open. There was blood on the ground and on the door, so I don't really know. I don't know who the blood belonged to; him or a walker or someone else entirely."

"Do you hope he's alive? I mean, he walked out on you and your daughter died. He wasn't there to protect her or you." He shrugged. "I'd wish he was dead."

She sighed, looking down at the pictures of her children. "Sometimes I do, I _really_ do. The longer it is that I've seen him and the more I think about how our daughter might've lived had he stayed, I really wish he was dead. But then I feel guilty for feeling like that."

"You shouldn't," Carl insisted. "A good husband would stick with his family and protect them no matter what, just like my dad."

Georgie grinned. "Your dad is definitely a good man and he does a good job at holding everyone together and keeping us safe. Sometimes the people we're with might die, like they have, but sometimes it's beyond our control and I know your dad takes it to heart. We all do. We just need to let him know it's not his fault when bad things like that happen and the weight of the world doesn't need to be on his shoulders."

Carl nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. "Yeah."

Georgie stood up and gestured to the boy. "Why don't you lay down there? Use the pillow. I'll go grab a blanket," she suggested. "You're a growing boy who needs his rest."

"Okay."

Walking up to Carl, Georgie propped the pillow up for him and then placed a hand to his head and he smiled up at her before she turned to walk away.

"Georgie," he whispered.

"Hmm?" she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Can you…can you stay here till I fall asleep?"

Georgie smiled and nodded. "Sure. Let me go get that blanket and I'll be right back."

Turning back around, Georgie stepped out of the den and almost jumped out of her skin when someone reached their hand out and grabbed onto her wrist. She reached for her hunting knife on instinct and spun, pushing whoever it was up against the wall, pressing the blade near their neck.

"Whoa, hey," Rick said, grabbing at her other hand holding the knife and pulling it away, which was easy when she realized it was him and sighed with relief.

"Oh, god, sorry," she whispered. "You scared me."

"You weren't the one with a blade to your throat," he quipped. He gestured toward the den with his thumb as she sheathed her knife. "I heard you in there with Carl."

"I think something's bothering him," she continued to whisper so Carl wouldn't hear them. "He doesn't seem to want to talk about it. Maybe it's just growing pains." She shrugged. "Your son thinks very highly of you, in case you didn't hear that while you were eavesdropping."

Rick grinned. "I did…hear that." He brought a finger up to his face and scratched an itch on his nose. "I guess I should add 'a shoulder to lean on' to the list of things I'm grateful for you doing."

"It's no big deal," she maintained. She smiled back up at him. "I do gotta go find a blanket for him. I said I was going to find one for him."

Slowly, she backed away from Rick but he stopped her, by grabbing both her hands and pulling her back toward him. They looked at each other and exchanged no words. Rick simply tilted his head slightly and kissed her again. It felt like her heart had leapt out of her chest and butterflies fluttered mercilessly in her stomach.

Rick almost felt the urge to suggest she share a bed with him tonight, since Carl was gonna sleep in the den, but Rick was a gentleman, through and through. Whatever was going on between him and Georgie was not something he wanted to rush into and possibly ruin.

He let her go with a smile, and he watched her touch her fingers to her lips as she wandered away. Waiting a few moments to gather himself, he turned into den and leaned against the door frame, about to say something to his son, only to find Carl had already fallen asleep while waiting for the blanket. Smirking, Rick turned back out of the room and headed back upstairs to the master bedroom where he had Judith encircled by a bunch of pillows on the bed so she wouldn't fall off in her sleep.

* * *

Georgie had fallen asleep on the floor beneath the sofa in the den Carl was sleeping on. She woke up only when she smelled some sort of meat cooking; the smell was wafting into the room and it stirred her awake. She sat up and looked to her left to see Carl was still in dreamland. As she rub the crust from her eyes and slowly got to her feet, she placed a hand to her back and winced; sleeping on the hard floor had not been comfortable at all and she'd slept in some shitty locations before. Aside from the smell of meat, there was also the sound of drills coming from underneath the floor that she was just now recognizing, which meant several of the others were also awake and back at trying to get that mystery door opened in the basement.

Stepping out into the foyer, she had a clear view of Daryl crouched down in the living room in front of the fireplace. He had rigged up some sort of spit over the flames and was roasting the squirrels and rabbits he'd brought back the night before from his day-long hunting trip. Sauntering into the living room, she plopped down onto the side of the wraparound couch, opposite to wear Noah was still asleep with his long legs dangling off the edge.

"Smells pretty good," Georgie mentioned to the archer.

Daryl looked over his shoulder at her and nodded. "Should be good eatin' too."

"Never been a fan of squirrel, before or after this apocalypse, but rabbits are decent."

"There's more fat on 'em, that's why. More flavor."

"What I'd give for some ketchup or barbecue sauce."

Daryl smirked. "A1 steak sauce," he specified.

Georgie nodded, feeling her stomach gurgle. "Alright, you're making me hungry now."

"They'll be done in a little bit. Why don't you open up some canned goods and we'll have a bigger breakfast."

"Good idea," she replied, getting back up off the couch.

She wandered off toward the kitchen and looked at all the cans that were gathered up on the table. She grabbed a few cans of corn which seemed the most in abundance, as well as the only two cans of chili. An idea struck her as she brought all the cans over to the kitchen counter and found a small pot. After opening the cans and dumping the contents into the pot, she brought it into the living room and set it beside Daryl.

"Pull the meat off the bones," she said. "We'll add it to this."

Daryl glanced inside the pot and back up at her, making a wary face. "The fuck's in there?"

"Chili and corn. It'll be good, I swear," she promised. "It'll be heartier; it'll stick to our innards." She grinned at him and watched as he shrugged. "Can you put this over the fire after the meat is done roasting, to warm up the pot?"

"Yeah," Daryl acquiesced. "Give it here."

As he took the pot and moved it between his knees, Georgie stood up and placed a hand to his shoulder in thanks before heading back to the kitchen. Maggie had just walked into the kitchen then and looked unnerved about something, which caught Georgie's attention.

"What's wrong?" she asked the younger woman.

Maggie pushed some damp hair behind her ear. She must've just showered not long before as she did also look refreshed and was dressed in a different outfit from the day before; a loose, white short-sleeved shirt and a pair of grey jeans. "There's blood."

"What?"

"I got angry about…about Beth, my dad," Maggie began saying. "I lifted my mattress and tossed it, and that's when I noticed there was this huge blood stain on the underside of it. You could tell someone tried cleaning it up, and someone obviously turned it over to hide the stain. And it just got me thinking about this house. This is a good house, right? Why would anyone leave it? It's secure, there's plenty of room; just like Rick said when we first got here two days ago. But now there's that door downstairs. Someone…or some people tried covering something up that happened here, I think." Maggie shrugged. "I don't know if it's just me, maybe I've just become pessimistic. Or maybe there's something wrong with this place. I just—I have this feeling in my gut…"

Georgie watched as Maggie placed a hand to her stomach and frowned. "Well, this house didn't have food in it. The people who lived here originally probably left to find some, and probably never came back. Maybe the blood is from them, maybe someone got bit and their family member had to shoot them," she suggested. "Rick and I found a woman dead in her bed yesterday at that other house and the husband or whoever he was to her was in one of the two cars at the end of that driveway with some supplies and a gun. There was also a little girl's room, but no little girl. Things happened here, but I think it's gonna be fine for us."

"I've been thinking also about your son. How he was here. What if that blood was from when he was here? What if something bad happened here and that's why him and the people he was obviously with left?" Maggie looked apologetic when she noticed how Georgie's face soured at the thought. "I'm sorry; I'm being too dark and grim. I know—I'm sorry. I've just lost so much recently and it's taking me to some dark places in my head and it doesn't make me much fun to be around."

Georgie offered a supportive smile. "It's alright." She stepped forward and hugged Maggie and the younger woman seemed glad of the gesture. "I've been in those dark places, too. We all have. It's just part of the grief process."

Maggie leaned back. "I feel bad, though, acting like this over losing my dad and sister, when you, Carol and, I think, Michonne have lost your children. I feel like my grief shouldn't trump yours."

"Loss is loss, and grief is grief." Georgie placed a hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Mine isn't any more important than yours, just because I'm a mother. They're not like physical scars."

Maggie nodded. "I should—I should probably turn the mattress back over. I don't want Glenn getting worried about me."

Georgie offered a smile. "Daryl and I got some food going for breakfast that should be ready soon if you wanna tell any others you find awake upstairs."

"Will do."

Maggie left the kitchen and Georgie dug through the cabinets for the plates she and Carol had cleaned the night before and set them on the counter. She grabbed a ladle out of a drawer so everyone could scoop out their own helpings of food when it was ready, and then she also began pulling out cups so everyone could drink. The only option was water and the weak Kool-Aid she had made two nights ago for Carl and Noah. They were saving the powdered milk for Judith. After puttering around for a few more minutes, Daryl walked into the kitchen with the pot and set it gracelessly down upon the counter next to the sink.

"Breakfast is served," he commented to her.

As he began to stalk off away from the kitchen, Georgie frowned quizzically. "Aren't you gonna have any?"

"I'm gonna grab a shower. I haven't since we got here." He turned slightly to look at her. "Save me a plate."

Walking toward the basement door, Georgie opened it up and called down, "There's some food ready for breakfast." She then went to the den and gave the sleeping Carl a gentle shove to his shoulder. When he stirred awake, she said softly to him with a laugh, "There's some rabbit and squirrel chili."

Carl made a face.

"I know it sounds gross but it'll be good, I swear."

She then left the boy alone to get up as his own leisure before walking into the living room to nudge Noah's leg and tell him food was ready as well. By the time she got back to the kitchen, Eugene, Glenn and Rosita were there, divvying out their own portions; making sure to not be greedy so there was enough for everyone.

"What is this?" Eugene asked.

"Chili and corn with squirrel and rabbit meat that Daryl roasted in the fireplace," Georgie replied.

Instead of helping herself to a plate, she turned and went upstairs to the room she had shared with Carol the first night. Carol wasn't in the room so Georgie assumed the older woman was either in one of the bathrooms or she was one of the people down in the basement. Her focus then turned to wondering who had Judith and ducked off into the master bedroom Rick and his kids had been using. Inside, she found Michonne changing Judith's diaper on the floor.

Georgie smiled. "Breakfast is ready. I know it's gonna seem gross, but—"

"We have no right to be picky," Michonne interrupted. She looked up at Georgie with a smirk. "As long as it's edible and don't kill any of us, I'm sure it'll be fine."

Georgie let out a chuckle and then nodded to Judith. "Want me to finish up here so you can get something to eat?"

"Yeah, actually, could you? I wanna wash up a bit before I go downstairs." Michonne stood up. Judith had a new diaper on – from a pack that had been found on the supply run the day before – and just needed a new onesie pulled on. "Thanks."

"No prob."

Michonne ducked into the master bath, since no one else was using it, which left Georgie alone in the bedroom with Judith. On top of the dresser was a few of the clothes she had found for the little girl in the other house and grabbed the onesie she'd taken off the teddy bear. It was white and pink striped with a flowery collar and a matching flowery bustle at the hips and one little flower decal over her the chest. It was adorable and reminded her of something her daughter had worn as a baby. Pulling it over a wiggling Judith's head and pulling her little arms through the holes, she snapped it closed at the crotch and then smiled over the girl, giving her belly a tickle.

For whatever reason, she looked to her left, at the foot of the mattress and she was suddenly thinking about the conversation she'd had with Maggie about the bloody mattress in Maggie and Glenn's room. Judith was safe on the floor, so Georgie walked around the side of the bed and crouched to grab at the bottom of the mattress and lift it up with all her might.

Peering at the darkness of the underside of the mattress, her eyes focused on the very large, dark stain and she immediately dropped the mattress back down.

She picked up Judith and went off toward Maggie's room and knocked on the door.

Maggie answered almost immediately and smiled a little upon seeing Judith. "Hey cutie," she said to the little girl.

"The mattress in the master bedroom has a similar blood stain under it."

Maggie looked Georgie in the eye and frowned. "It's either a sad coincidence or—"

"—Or not." Georgie suddenly felt that same pang of dread Carl had been mentioning; that a shoe was about to drop.

"It's probably a coincidence," Maggie tried to insist, though she didn't seem quite sure of herself.

"Yeah, probably." Georgie smiled half-heartedly. "Breakfast is ready."

"Okay."

* * *

Breakfast was, as Georgie had hoped, surprisingly delicious. The ingredients went well together and everyone seemed content. The main discussion around the dining room table was for a small group to try another supply run. Apparently, Daryl had spotted a golf course and country club on the other side of the woods during his hunting expedition the day before, and he offered to go check it out with whomever else wanted to join him. Georgie assumed him offering to go away on supply runs, staying outside to keep watch of the property and going off hunting was part of his grieving process. Not that he was sociable person to begin with, but he just seemed more detached from the group than usual. Abraham and Tyreese had been the muscle who were doing the most grunt work at trying to remove the deadbolts from the door and had only two left now that they had working, battery-operated power tools. Rick had been down there with them, as was Glenn, Carol, Rosita and Sasha. The latter four were down in the basement mostly out of curiosity.

Also, there was a pool table and a dart board.

When Noah heard about the pool table, he joined the group in the basement and Eugene went as well. Gabriel offered to help clean up the dishes for Georgie while she took Judith into the den with her. She set the little girl down on the floor, with the tiny stuffed teddy bear she had swiped from the other house, so Judith had something to play with, and then she sat back down at the desk to look at her son's drawing and the pictures of both children.

Michonne and Tara had gone off a short time later with Daryl, and barely ten seconds after the trio left, Carl wandered into the den with some comic books he'd brought down from the bedroom Tyreese and Sasha had been sleeping in.

"Which ones you got?" Georgie asked.

"Spider-Man."

"Who's your favorite superhero?"

Carl grinned as he sat down on the den sofa. "Iron Man, probably," he replied. "He has all the cool stuff."

As Georgie smiled at his response, she saw Maggie hurrying into the living room and start to pull up the cushions. Knitting her brow together, Georgie got up and asked Carl to keep an eye on Judith. She then left the den, crossed the foyer and went into the living room. She was about to ask Maggie what she was doing when she saw for herself what the issue was.

The undersides of all the cushions were stained in blood.

Maggie turned around and looked at Georgie, holding one of the cushions in her hand. "Every mattress upstairs and downstairs, and also the cushions in the family room; they're soaked in dried blood on the bottoms. It looks like a massacre; like people were butchered while they slept judging by the amount of blood."

Georgie found this to be reasonably disturbing. "I think we should tell Rick about this. If someone murdered a bunch of people here, and then hid the evidence, who's to say they won't come back here?"

Maggie nodded. "We definitely need to tell Rick."

Both women walked out of the living room to the door that led down to the basement, with Maggie still holding onto the cushion to show Rick and the others about her findings.

While they were approaching the bottom stairs, Abraham had removed the last deadbolt and Tyreese and Rick had managed to get the hinges off the door. The big reveal was moments away as Rick looked over at the others and then turned the handle.

The door was hard to pull open; probably from the changing of the weather or humidity which caused the door to stick in its frame. With some elbow grease, Rick pulled it open with a flurry and he, as well as anyone standing close to the door, was hit with an overwhelming odor that brought tears to the eyes as well as inciting the gag reflex.

"Holy shit," Abraham muttered, covering his nose. "That smells like vomit and diarrhea had a baby."

Rick blinked the sting of the stench out of his eyes repeatedly and tried to just breathe through his mouth, but even then it felt like he was tasting it. "Someone hand me a flashlight."

Carol turned one on and passed it to him. When he got it in hand, he aimed it inside the room and immediately took a step back.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Noah wondered. "Bunch of dead rats or something?"

Abraham peered inside over Rick's shoulder. "It's a bunch of dead something alright."

In the room, which had no windows or source of ventilation, was a pile of dead bodies; upwards of fifteen of them lying on top of one another like decayed, skeletal rag dolls. The room wasn't very big, so the amount of bodies inside seemed larger than there probably really were. If it weren't for the nauseating stench which was now permeating out into the rest of the basement, one would assume the bodies were just leftover Halloween props.

Rick scanned the flashlight over the bodies and two in particular caught his attention and broke his heart. When Tyreese noticed the same two, he looked at Rick and both men shared a look of sadness with each other. And then a look of realization hit them when they heard Georgie and Maggie entering the basement and calling out to Rick.

Rick whipped his head toward both women and felt his heart leap into his chest, and not in the good way. "Hey, uh, I don't think—" he began.

"We might have a situation with this house, Rick," Maggie cut him off, holding up the cushion. "Every mattress and every couch cushion looks like this on the bottom. There was a mass killing or something here. The blood's all dry so I don't know how long ago this happened."

"You got the door op—" Georgie noticed, and then was hit by the smell, waving her hand in front of her face. "Oh God, what _is_ that?"

Rick stepped in front of her and blocked her from heading near the room. "It's bad in there. Trust me; you don't want to go in there."

"It smells like death," she deduced correctly.

"It is death," Eugene commented, as Rick shot him a look.

Georgie frowned. "Are there people in there?"

"Yes," Rick hesitated. "But, you don't need to see it."

His insistence irked her for some reason. "I've seen dead bodies all the time; why shouldn't I see these ones?"

"Just…trust me?"

Noah moved around and peered inside the room. He had grabbed another flashlight and shined it inside to see for himself. "Aw, man. There's kids in there."

Rick turned and looked back at the teen as if he were stupid. When he returned his gaze at Georgie, her nostrils were flaring and she looked worried, and considerably so. She pushed by Rick to see inside the room for herself, but he kept trying to get in her way.

"This is not what you need to see," he pleaded with her.

"I'm a grown woman. I can decide for myself what I need and don't need to see."

"Georgie—"

"Sayin' my name ain't gonna make me wanna see any less."

Snatching the flashlight out of Noah's hand she covered her nose and aimed the flashlight inside. When she panned over to a corner, that's when she saw the children's bodies. There were two of them and they weren't just any two children. They were wearing Cub Scout uniforms. When it registered in Georgie's mind, she dropped the flashlight as her knees buckled and her legs gave out underneath her. As he was closest to her, Noah grabbed Georgie before she fell by hooking his hands under her arms. A scream of horror and grief seemed lost in her throat as her mouth opened. She couldn't even speak; she merely inhaled and exhaled sharply as tears began falling down her cheeks in torrents.

Rick moved to take over for Noah and pull Georgie up to her feet but she reacted by shoving him and hitting him in the chest and on the arms with her fists. When Carol took a turn to look inside with the flashlight Georgie had dropped. When Carol, too, noticed the uniforms on the children's bodies, she turned toward Georgie and walked right up to her. She pulled the younger woman away from Rick, who was receiving quite the pummeling, and turned Georgie into her arms in a comforting embrace.

Carol rubbed Georgie's back soothingly and laid her head upon her shoulder. "Shh," she hushed. "I know—I know it's terrible. I know."

Abraham stepped over to the others who hadn't looked into the room and were confused by what Georgie had reacted so badly to; muttering about there being two dead boys in Cub Scout uniforms. Not everyone knew about the details about how Georgie's son went missing or what he would've been wearing, but those that did brought their hands to their mouths, and not because of the stench.

Maggie dropped the cushion to the floor and joined Carol in hugging Georgie. When Georgie couldn't hold herself up any longer, the other two women sank to the floor with her.

"_My son_!" Georgie suddenly and finally wailed; finding her voice again, which cracked when she added, "My son is dead."

Sobs began to rack her body and she more openly cried.

All the commotion had caught the attention of Gabriel and Carl who were still upstairs on the first floor. Carl was descending the stairs, behind the preacher, with Judith in his arms.

"What's going on?" Carl asked.

Rick turned to his son and pointed. "Go back upstairs, Carl."

"But I just want—"

"I _said_ go back upstairs," Rick repeated more forcefully. "And take your sister with you. I _won't_ say it again."

Carl had finally noticed the smell and he saw Georgie on the floor crying her heart out, being held by Maggie and Carol and knew something bad had happened. He would just bide his time. He could probably get Noah to tell him later if no one else was going to.

Turning around in a huff, Carl returned back to the first floor while Gabriel remained.

"What has happened?" the preacher asked of Rick.

Rick gestured for Gabriel to come near with the curl of his finger. When the other man was close enough, Rick leaned in and whispered, "Georgie's son who she's been hoping to find…he was a Cub Scout. We know he was here with some people at least six months ago. There's a bunch of dead bodies in that room and two are boys in Cub Scout uniforms."

"And her son is one of them?" Gabriel inquired, keeping his voice to a whisper as well.

Rick nodded. "It makes sense, unfortunately."

"Maybe they're different boys from a different troop," Gabriel offered; this time, his voice loud enough for Georgie to hear.

"His troop number is on their sleeve," Georgie muttered, sniffling, as her body was then, once more, overcome by sobs that shook her.

She hadn't cried this hard since she lost her daughter and she suddenly realized that this was the other shoe that was waiting to drop.

Rick looked down at Georgie and crouched to her level. Reaching a hand out, he placed it upon the side of her face and waited until she looked at him. "I'm sorry," he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"So am I," she replied through her tears.

* * *

"So, what's the plan?" Abraham asked Rick.

Most of the group was seated around the dining room table, looking to Rick, as usual, for leadership. Daryl, Michonne and Tara were still on that supply run to the golf course, so they weren't aware of what was going on, and Carol was in the den still consoling Georgie. Everyone else was present; even Carl who was still holding Judith.

"Do we just bury her son and burn the rest?" Abraham continued.

Rick looked over at the ginger man and shook his head. "She doesn't know which one is her son," he responded. "Ya'll saw his school picture she had put on the fridge. You saw what he looked like. Those bodies down there are so far gone with decay there's no way of telling what any of them used to look like, especially both the boys." He looked around the table and bit at his thumbnail for a moment as he considered the options. "No, we bury both the boys. We bury all of 'em. Those people, the amount of blood Maggie found under all the mattresses and cushions, they were killed while they slept. They were executed." He scowled, leaning back in his chair at the end of the long table. "Good people with two children with them aren't killed in bed because they were walkers. It's unlikely they all got bit and turned. There would be blood all over this house, but there's not. It's been sequestered to anywhere a person could sleep. The amount of people that were killed, this took more than one person to do it. It was probably a group. My guess is they came in during the middle of the night, thinking this place was empty and then they saw it wasn't. I'm talking the worst of humanity doing this. They came in, killed everyone with one shot to the head while they slept."

"They probably got rid of the bodies in that room and found the deadbolts in the garage; thought it'd be easier to dispose of the bodies that way than burn 'em. The fire and smoke might've drawn other people or walkers," Glenn suggested. "And then they cleaned up most of the blood and flipped the mattresses. But why they did that is beyond me."

"So they could sleep on 'em," Tyreese piped up. "So they could sleep easy without reminders of what they'd done."

"And then they cleaned this place out of food and a few other supplies, and left." Rick pulled at his beard. It was getting much fuller a bit out of hand, but there was no razor here to shave it off even if he wanted to. "Georgie and I found a woman killed the same way in the other house down the road. She was on her bed, gunshot right into her forehead, and blood soaked into the mattress. There was a little girl's room, but no sign of a little girl or even a grave, but then again we didn't check the backyard. We think it was probably the husband that was in that one car at the end of the driveway. He shot his wife, whether she was a walker or not; who knows? I don't think the deaths here and the death there are linked though. I think they're separate instances."

"What do we do after we bury the dead?" Sasha asked.

"I dunno just yet," Rick shrugged. "Let's wait for Daryl, Michonne and Tara to get back and then we'll decide.

* * *

The trio did return about two hours later while several of the others were digging graves and burying the bodies in the graves already dug. Daryl ran up seeing the mound of bodies covered with bed sheets, thinking the worst had happened while they were away, no doubt. Rick was there to fill him and the other two in about the bodies found in the secret room and how one was determined to be Georgie's son Tristan. Michonne went straight into the house and sought out Georgie, finding her sitting in the den with Carol. Georgie was actually lying down with her head in Carol's lap and Carol was just there as comfort.

Only Carol and Michonne knew this particular pain Georgie was going through, for a second time; the pain of losing a child. Carol had lost her daughter Sophia, and Michonne had lost her son Andre. To have carried that life within you for nine months and then raised them, only for their light to be extinguished so early was traumatizing.

Parents weren't supposed to outlive their children.

Kneeling on the ground, Michonne reached a hand out to rest upon Georgie's shoulder and whispered her condolences and then just leaned back in silence.

Sometimes, not saying anything to someone who was grieving, but just being there, was more comforting.

When all the bodies were buried, Rick came into the den where the three childless mothers were. He crouched down beside Michonne, who then got back up to her feet and left the room. Carol took the hint, too, that Rick wanted to speak to Georgie alone. As soon as it was just the two of them left, Rick leaned in toward Georgie and placed his hand on the side of her face while she laid there staring at his chest, but not at him.

"It's done," he said. "Both boys we put together since it was too hard to tell…" He let himself trail off and not finish that sentence. He bit his lips together and then leaned closer to press his sweaty forehead upon her dry on for a moment. "You survived the death of your daughter, as terrible as it was for you, and I know you'll survive this. It'll take some time, and it's gonna hurt like hell, but you'll do it."

"I survived my daughter's death because I still had hope that my son was alive," she mumbled. "Now I know my son is dead."

A thought entered his head. "You said there were four boys that were missing from your son's troop, your son included, but we only found two downstairs. Maybe your son and the other one are still out there."

Georgie looked him in the eye, deadpan and void of emotion. "No," she shook her head. "There was blonde hair on the one boy. And his drawing was here. Rick, as nice as it would be, I do not believe my son survived this house. You just buried him in the backyard with one of his friends." She slowly pushed herself up until she was sitting and his gaze followed her. "I'm done hanging onto hope. It's just a pretty distraction; a theory made up in your head to ignore the harsh reality of this life. And you know what? I'm glad my son and my daughter are dead. They're at peace and don't have to know further suffering in this world, this hell we live in."

Tears were falling down her face again and Rick frowned.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "That makes me sound like I wish Carl and Judith weren't here, either."

Rick moved his hands to cover her upper thighs with them; platonically, not in a sexual way. This was in no way an appropriate time for anything of the sort. "I didn't take it as that's how you meant it," he assured. "I mean, I don't wish my kids dead or anything, but I wish they didn't have to live in this world either. This isn't the kind of world for any of us to be living in."

They looked at each other in the eye and they met halfway in a caring hug.

"Did Gabriel say anything over the graves?"

"Yeah," Rick replied into her hair.

"Good," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "I couldn't be out there and watch it."

"No, that's okay. It's understandable," he assured. "I don't think I could watch _Carl_ or _Judith_ being buried."

"Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes this world is ass backwards." Rick lifted her head up off his shoulder and held it in his hands so he could look her in the eye again. "You're gonna survive this," he repeated.

"I don't know that I want to anymore."

"If not for yourself, do it for my kids, for Carol…" Then, in a more hushed voice, he added, "For me."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips but as soon as it almost appeared, it was gone. With a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, Georgie, was finding she no more tears would come for her, leaned back against the sofa. "I make no promises," she said.

"Sounds like a promise to me," he attempted to jest.

* * *

"We're not staying here another night," Rick announced to the group as they all stood around the kitchen. "We made a plan to go to Richmond to Noah's home where Beth wanted to go, and we got enough fuel and food to get us there. We'll pack up only the necessities and we'll be on our way. I want us on the road before nightfall."

Rick looked at his son, he looked at his daughter who was being held by Michonne, and he looked at Georgie who was leaning against a wall with Carol at her side.

"We'll drive a few hours and then pull over to sleep before continuing on in the morning. We just can't stay here anymore." He then cast a glance over at Daryl who was sitting a few feet away on top of the kitchen counter, and repeated what Daryl had said when they first all entered this house together. "This place is a graveyard."


	12. Hold On

**Author's Note: Thank you for all the positive reviews and I'm glad ya'll have enjoyed my original "scenes"! Now, back to your regularly scheduled program. :P**

* * *

"_Hold on_

_Hold on to yourself_

_For this is gonna hurt like hell" _

― Sarah McLachlan

* * *

It was a quiet car ride along the empty, leaf-scattered road; each person seemingly lost in thought.

It had been three days since the group had left the large house outside Greensboro, North Carolina and now they had made it to Richmond, Virginia. They could've gotten there sooner had a tire on one of the vehicles not blown. They had no spare so they split off into small groups to find one. Plus they stopped to sleep or use the bathroom. A decent sized herd of walkers was involved at one point, wherein everyone had to scatter and hunker down for a few hours among the dirt and trees of the woods. Those nice new clothes they had last changed into back in Greensboro is what they still wore and with sweating, killing walkers and practically rolling around in the woods, their clothes were once again far from being fresh and clean. But that wasn't anything they weren't already used to.

It was radio silence between the other vehicles as the GMC Suburban traveled alone on the road. Inside, Tyreese was driving, with Noah in the passenger seat. Rick sat directly behind Tyreese, holding a walkie-talkie in his hand, while Georgie sat to his right, behind Noah, staring out the window. Behind her was Michonne and behind Rick was Glenn.

Rick glanced away from his own window and to his right to stare at Georgie, who he hadn't exchanged many words with since they left Greensboro. She was still coming to terms with her loss and really wasn't talking to anyone. She did, however, offer to come on this run to Noah's home; expressing the need to keep herself occupied, both physically and mentally. Rick had consented, agreeing she needed this as well, and also he was enjoying her company more and more every day.

"How far out?" Rick asked of Noah.

The teen looked over his shoulder, to the odometer and then back to Rick. "About five miles."

Rick nodded and brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "Hey, Carol."

"_I'm here._"

"We're halfway there. Just wanted to check the range."

"_Everybody's holding tight. We've made it five hundred miles. Maybe this can be the easy part._"

"Got to think we're due. Give us twenty minutes to check in."

"_We don't hear from you, we'll come looking._"

"Copy that."

Rick signed off and found Georgie looking back at him. He offered a small smile and she attempted the same. To further prove he was there for her and that they would be okay, he reached his hand across the seat and gave hers a comforting squeeze before she turned back away.

Noah began talking to Tyreese about his feelings or something. Georgie wasn't sure. She'd begun to drown out their conversation. And while she was no longer looking at Rick and was once again staring out her window, she still reciprocated the hold he had on her hand. It helped, considerably; that contact, that touch.

"…Two more miles," she soon heard Noah saying to Rick.

"Alright," Rick replied. "Let's pull into the woods. We'll go on foot. Stay off the road."

"We don't need to."

"Just in case."

They drove about a quarter mile more up the road and then Tyreese veered slowly down off into an opening in the trees where there were two wrecked vehicles. Everyone hopped out of the Suburban, with Michonne and Glenn piling out of the back. They each made sure they weapons were about them; Michonne slipping her katana behind her back like a badass. Georgie had grown to seriously admire how talented the other woman was with that blade. She looked down at her hunting knife and her Beretta, knowing she was capable, but a katana _did_ seem cooler.

"This is good," Rick announced, inspecting where they were. "Through the trees, it might just look like part of the wreck."

As if on cue, the walkers inside the other two vehicles stirred and groaned at them.

"It's this way," Noah informed, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder.

Through the woods, the passed tree after tree and even the occasional corpse that had decayed to nothing more than a skeleton with the earth growing up around and within its bones. It only took a couple of minutes when they found wire string tied all around several trees as some sort of deterrence to walkers.

"Your people do this?" Michonne asked.

"Wanted to," Noah replied as he limped along, still recovering from whatever had happened to him in Atlanta. "They must have."

The six of them began to crouch in-between the wires like thieves breaking into vault secured by lasers.

"Ah!" Noah gasped, touching his hand to his head where he was suddenly bleeding.

"You alright?" Georgie asked.

"Yeah. Yeah."

Noah, Michonne, Glenn and Tyreese moved ahead as Rick and Georgie lingered a bit, both staring a little suspiciously at the wires. He turned his focus to her, placed a hand to her arm to stop her for a moment. Georgie's eyes looked at his hand and then up at his face. His hair was greasy and damp with sweat, just like everyone else's, his beard was a little unruly and there was a thin layer of dirt on his face. But it someone worked for him. He was still handsome. He also seemed concerned.

They simply exchanged a look but no words.

Rick looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. Instead, he gestured for her to walk ahead of him. Then, no more than a minute later of walking, they were all upon the edge of the woods, with a glimpse through the trees at a large red and metal gate. Just outside it was a sign that read: Shirewilt Estates.

Rick grabbed Noah by the shoulder. "They have spotters? Snipers?"

"We built a perch on a truck. Sometimes it's out front."

"Not today," Glenn informed.

All six of them got their weapons ready in case they needed to use them as they quietly stepped out of the woods and up onto the road that led into the gated community. On the hot pavement, there was the shredded body of some sort of animal and a few feet up was a broken grandfather's clock lying on its back. It was random, but not important enough to give a second glance to.

Noah reached the gate first and grabbed it; rattling it slightly and listening for signs of life or _un_life. "You hear that?" he asked, looking back at the others.

"Just wait," Glenn whispered. He grabbed onto the fence on the side of the gate and pulled himself to look over the top. Crestfallen, he looked back over to the other and shook his head.

Noah suddenly became anxious as he mimicked Glenn by pulling himself up onto the fence, but took it once step farther by jumping over onto the other side. Georgie couldn't find the gumption to react to the teen's obvious worry about his mother and twin brothers who were supposed to still be residing inside the community. She didn't have much gumption for this trip here to Richmond anymore, anyway. However, that didn't stop her from joining the others by climbing up the fence and jumping over to join Noah as well.

Inside the Shirewilt Estates looked like the aftermath of a battle. There were burnt house and burnt corpses on the ground. Items from homes were scattered all about as well.

Noah kept muttering "no" over and over, hobbling faster up the road, which Rick calling after him. When the teen broke off into a run, Rick shouted his name and ran off after him, and the others followed him to where the road became an intersection with four roads that came together. More dead bodies could be seen lying on the pavement, and there was even a walker ambling up the road a ways. Noah began to cry, and dropped down to the ground while everyone else just took in the scene around them.

There hadn't been that much in the way of hope that the community would work out, but now it was a certain _fact_ that it wouldn't work out.

Georgie turned around, noting a foot-tall brick wall with the message 'Wolves Not Far' spray-painted on, and on the road within the intersection was a yellow sun drawn in chalk.

Tyreese walked up to Noah and placed his hands on the young man's shoulders. "It's alright. You'll be with us now."

Michonne scowled at the sight of the walker that was still shuffling up the road toward them. "I'll get 'im," she announced, unsheathing her katana.

Rick crouched down beside Noah. "I'm sorry, Noah. I truly am." Then, toward the others, he added, "We should see if there's anything we can use and head back."

"Then what?" Georgie asked.

Rick stood up just as more walkers began to approach.

"They see us," Michonne commented, her tone dejected.

"We can make a quick sweep," Glenn spoke.

"I'll stay with him," offered Tyreese, standing stalwart.

Rick nodded as Glenn and Georgie watched Michonne slayed the walkers. He pulled out his walkie-talkie again and turned it on. "Carol, do you copy?"

"_We're here_."

"We made it," he said. "It's gone."

Georgie sidled up beside Glenn and the two of them walked together up the road, stepping around the bodies and other debris. The first house they came upon, they walked up the driveway. This house and its property, like all the rest, was a wreck. If the homes weren't burnt, belongings from the homes were scattered over lawns, inside the garages, on the sidewalks and in the roads. They could only begin to wonder what _inside_ the homes must look like.

At the first house, Michonne stepped on an encased baseball jersey, smashing the glass and pulling the jersey out. "Clean shirt," she muttered.

Rick touched her arm. "We'll figure it out."

"We will," Glenn agreed, eyeing the inside of the garage.

"There's some garbage bags in the garage," Michonne muttered some more. Next to Noah, she seemed the most disappointed about the community not working out.

Georgie, on the other hand, had doubted their chances with Shirewilt after the discoveries they had made in Greensboro. There seemed to have been a shift inside her somewhat. She went from leaning toward the optimistic side of the spectrum to the pessimistic side. She felt just as broken as these homes and that glass Michonne stepped on.

While Glenn and Michonne meandered around the garage, Rick looked at her. "You didn't think it would still be here?"

"Did _you_?"

Rick turned slightly so that they were standing side by side, and lowered his voice as if they were about to have a private conversation. "After it happened, right after with Beth in the hospital, I saw that woman Dawn. She didn't mean to do it. I knew it. I saw it. But I wanted to kill her. I remember I just wondered if it even mattered one way or another. Didn't have a thing to do with Beth. I don't know if I thought it would still be here. But Beth wanted to get him here. She wanted to get him back home. This was for her. And it could have been for us, too."

"The house in Greensboro could've been for us, too, and look how _that_ turned out."

"I know."

"I feel like there's no place left in this world for any of us anymore. We're just gonna continue to drift aimlessly, like ghosts or echoes; just constantly reminding each other of the way things used to be and never will again."

They were both leaning against the car in the driveway and Rick took a chance in placing a hand on the small of her back with Glenn and Michonne nearby. "I almost wanted to stay in that other house, even after everything we found. A part of me was wishing whoever did those terrible things would come back so I could kill them, and not even because they deserve it, but because I wanted to do it for you." He leaned in until she had turned her face a little to look back at him. "I wanted to give you vengeance for your son's death."

Georgie attempted a smile. "And they say romance is dead," she whispered.

Rick rubbed her back and they both looked forward at the other broken down homes as Glenn walked up to them. Rick discreetly retracted his hand and they both looked at the younger man who seemed a little disenchanted about everything as well. Something seemed to be on his mind as he moved to leaned against the car as well, on the other side of Georgie.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she inquired.

"I was thinking about that guy in the storage container. Back at Terminus. How I made us stop," he looked at Rick. This was something Georgie hadn't been around for. It had happened just before she met the group. "After the prison, on my trip, I got Maggie back. Things went okay. Losing Washington, losing—" he trailed, crouching down to pick up a baseball bat, "—losing Beth right after just finding out she's alive." Glenn stood back up, gripping the bat. "I hadn't caught up with you yet. If it were _now_, I wouldn't make us stop. We'd run right by."

"I would've shot that woman dead," Georgie chimed in, referring to Dawn. She never knew Beth, but Beth was part of the group, and Georgie was part of the group, therefore Beth was her family by proxy. "Right or wrong."

"But we need to stop," Michonne spoke up as she approached with the jersey and a black garbage bag in her hands. "You can be out here too long."

Georgie sighed. "She's right. As jaded as I've become recently, I know we need to stop, too. Staying at that house in Greensboro, before…" she trailed, and brought hand to her lips. "Things seemed good for once. We had a place to rest. Hell, we had a place to call home, even if it was meant as a stopping point for here. But we also considered going back there if this didn't work out."

"This could still work out," Michonne insisted.

The other three just looked at her, not seeing her vision.

* * *

A short while later, all four of them had a black plastic bag filled with supplies they had swiped from neighboring houses. They congregated in front of the house Michonne had just come out of, with her looking hopeful about something.

"We could put some of the garage doors together against the break. Park a car against them until we can brick it back up," she was saying. "It can work."

"This place is surrounded by a forest. There's no sight lines. Whoever, whatever would be on top of us without us even knowing it," Rick replied as they walked along the road. "That's probably what happened."

"That's what happened to us," Glenn remarked.

Michonne wasn't content with Rick's dismissal of her idea. She stopped walking and turned around to face the other three. "We could start taking down the trees. We use them to build the walls up." She glanced from one to the other. "Look."

She began to move again, walking over to a rusty, vine-covered fence with a large gap in it. Rick, Georgie and Glenn followed her into the small clearing on the other side of the fence to find old tire tracks in the grass and bodies ripped in half or into parts all over the place. Michonne noticed it first, the stone base of the fence. It had breaks in it. Someone had wrecked it on purpose.

"It doesn't matter," Georgie said.

"What?" questioned Rick; still looking in the same direction as Michonne.

"You said you wondered if it even mattered if you killed Dawn or not. It doesn't matter if you had done it or if I had, or that Daryl did. It doesn't matter."

"Washington," Michonne spoke up again. "Eugene lied about a cure, but he thought of Washington for a reason."

"But he was _lying_," Glenn reminded.

"About the cure, but he did the math and realized that Washington was the place where there'd be a chance. We're close." Off Rick's sigh, she added, "What if there are people there? Huh? What if it's someplace that we can be safe? We're a hundred miles away. It's a possibility. It's a chance; instead of just _being_ out here, instead of just _making_ it. Because right now, this is what making it looks like. Don't you want one more day with a chance?"

The snarling of walkers coming out from the woods ended the conversation.

Rick eyed the walkers and then said, "We should go." As Glenn, Georgie and Michonne moved to head back inside the gate, Rick continued. "It's a hundred miles away." They turned toward him. "We should go to Washington."

Georgie noticed Michonne try to smile, thankful that Rick had acquiesced to her new ideas. She also noticed Rick was about to say something else before everyone's thought process was cut off by Noah shouting in the distance.

"Rick! Help, Rick! Glenn! Michonne! Georgie!"

The four of them took off running immediately, holding onto their garbage bags and also, once again, pulling out their weapons. As they got closer to Noah's cries, they found him pinned down on a porch by two walkers.

"Help!"

"Noah, hold on!" Georgie shouted, as Glenn whacked the male walker in the head with the baseball bat and Georgie stabbed the same one in the head with her hunting knife.

Rick took care of the female walker still blocking Noah from running. Offering his hand to the teen, Rick asked if he was okay. He then went off to assist Michonne with a third, particularly difficult walker; leaving Glenn and Georgie to pull Noah up to his feet.

"It's Tyreese!"

"Where?"

"My house. He's been bit."

The adrenaline got everyone's hearts pumping as they ran off, following Noah. When they got into the house, they found Tyreese surrounded by his own blood, slumped on the floor against the wall and he looked incredibly out of it. Rick dropped down to his knees and grabbed onto Tyreese's hand, holding it stretched out. Georgie moved around to the other side of the Tyreese. She pulled off her belt and tied it around his infected arm and held it firm with one hand while simultaneously wrapping her free arms around Tyreese's shoulders. She pulled his head closer to her chest in a way to keep the big ol' teddy bear of a man steady and to keep him comforted as Michonne readied her katana for what was about to happen.

"You hold him!" Rick shouted at Georgie.

"I got it! Go!" she shouted back.

Rick then directed to Michonne, "One hit, clean! Go!"

And with a slice, Tyreese's arm was severed. Rick fell backward slightly, holding the severed end and then dropping it to the floor. Georgie untied her belt from around Tyreese's, well, stump and didn't bother putting it back on around her jeans just yet. It wasn't a priority. Rick and Glenn got a very lethargic Tyreese up to his feet as Michonne and Noah led the way out of the bedroom and down the hall. Georgie brought up the rear; every personal issue she was dealing with took a backseat to her friend's well-being.

"Push it," Rick growled.

"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" Glenn urged as they darted out of the house.

Michonne's voice echoed from the backyard. "Through the back!"

They made their way around the house and then back to the main road in, up to the padlocked gate.

"We've got to break the chain," Georgie announced. "Let's go."

Glenn moved forward. "We can use the bat."

"I got him," Noah insisted, taking Tyreese off Rick's arms, no pun intended.

"Can you hold him up?" Rick wondered.

"Yeah."

"Get ready!" Rick shouted as Glenn got the gate open and walkers began to tumble toward them, snarling and hungry.

Rick fired his Colt at them and used his machete simultaneously, Glenn continued to use the bat, Georgie used both her hunting knife and Beretta, and Michonne stuck to her trusty katana, but the walkers still seemed to slip past them toward Tyreese, most likely smelling his fresh blood from his severed limb. Rick took two shots and killed the last walker and they all immediately holstered their weapons and ran over to their dying friend. Glenn and Rick once again lifted him up to his feet and their small group made their way out of the Shirewilt Estates and back onto the main road.

As they made their way toward the woods, there was another walker on the road, but Rick said for them to leave it. They needed all the time they could get.

"Stay with us, now. Stay with us," Georgie repeated over and over. She didn't want to lose someone else she cared about so soon.

They all hurried through the woods as fast as they could with Tyreese and they each held up those wires from earlier to help him through. However, he was getting much heavier and fell forward. Rick strained to pull him back. To make it more difficult, Tyreese's foot got stuck so Georgie turned and tried to unhook it as the same walker from the road approaching, clearly having followed them. They got away from the wires in time, though, and the walker got caught up by them.

"You got to hold on, man. Hold on!" Rick commanded over Tyreese as he laid on the ground staring up, disoriented.

They each grabbed onto Tyreese, some grabbing him at the shoulders, supporting him under his back, while the rest at the feet and legs, and all grunting through it. They passed the skeleton overgrown with plants and made it back to the Suburban moments later, where they pulled Tyreese into the seat middle seat. Glenn climbed into the back again and still had a hold on Tyreese's legs while Rick and Noah had a grip on the big man's shoulders. Noah ran around to the other side and hopped in beside Tyreese, while Michonne climbed into the back, the three of them holding the man up and keeping him conscious while Georgie climbed into the passenger seat and Rick ran around to the driver's side, pulling out his walkie-talkie at the same time.

"Carol, we're at the car," Rick announced. "Tyreese was bit and we cut off his arm, but he's bleeding real bad. We need to cauterize the arm and wrap it. Get Sasha and Carl away; they don't need to see this." Rick tossed the walkie-talkie onto Georgie's lap and then started the engine, only for the wheels to spin from being stuck in the mud. "Come on, come on, come on, come on."

As soon as the Suburban got free, it slammed into the wrecked truck in front of them and the back of the truck popped open, allowing dismembered torsos of walkers to fall onto the Suburban's hood and windshield, or roll off onto the ground. The walkers hadn't been put down. The grunted and snarled, and it made Georgie gasp as little as she stared at them. And, for whatever reason, they each had a W carved into their foreheads.

"Come on. _Come_ _on_!" Georgie pleaded.

Rick put the vehicle in reverse, causing several of the walker torsos to fall, and then turned the wheel, taking them around the wrecked truck. By the time they had made their way back onto the road, Rick was driving at a breakneck pace. Georgie had gotten up and turned around in her seat to look back at Tyreese to make sure he was still with them. She reached further into the middle seat and placed a hand on his perspiring forehead, and she frowned.

Turning back around, she sat down and looked at Rick who caught her gaze.

"He's burning up," she muttered, sadly.

Georgie watched as Rick's jaw clenched and he returned his eyes to the road. Everyone remained silent, just listening to Tyreese's breathing and the pounding of their hearts in their chests.

After about two or three miles up the road, Tyreese muttered, "Turn it off."

No one knew what he was talking about. Georgie glanced back to see Glenn patting the big man's shoulders, letting him know they were all there for him. Tears began to sting Georgie's eyes, sensing they might not get back to the rest of the group in time and she didn't know if her mind and her heart were ready for what came next.

Rick began to look over his shoulder, back at Tyreese. Everyone else followed suit, noticing Tyreese's eyes were shut. Noah reached his hand out and announced there was no pulse. While trying to wrap their minds around Tyreese being gone, Rick brought the Suburban to a stop on the side of the road. The five survivors of the trip to Shirewilt Estates climbed out of the vehicle as Rick and Glenn pulled Tyreese out to lay him upon the road.

Rick looked up at Michonne, who nodded at him and unsheathed her katana. Rick got to his feet and walked away, not able to watch as Michonne stuck the blade into Tyreese's skull. Instead, Rick walked over to a crying Georgie who had slumped down against the Suburban. He fell down to his knees and leaned forward, pulling Georgie into his arms. As she laid her head upon his shoulder, she saw Michonne wipe her blade and then saunter off a few feet before sitting down on the road with her back to everyone else. Noah had walked away a bit to drop to his knees as well while Glenn remained the only one standing, leaning back against the Suburban with his face in his hands.

They each needed to take a few moments to come to terms with their new loss.

* * *

"We look not at what can be seen, but we look at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal," Gabriel was speaking over Tyreese's open grave which had been dug under a weeping willow tree. A sheet was draped over his body and everyone took turns shoveling dirt onto him. At the top of his grave was a crossed made out of two large sticks and some twine, and his beanie was draped on top. "For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made from hands, eternal in the heavens. In the heavens."

Sasha was the last one to throw some dirt onto her brother's body before dropping the shovel onto the ground where Rick walked over and picked it up. Everyone walked away, back toward all the vehicles while Rick remained and finished burying their friend. Georgie walked off with Carl, who was holding Judith close to him, but both she and the boy had turned to look back at Rick who seemed to be placing this loss upon his shoulders as another burden to carry.

"Let's get your sister a bottle, huh?" she suggested, patting Carl's shoulders.

"Yeah, okay."

* * *

Once Tyreese was buried, Rick sauntered away from the group, heading into the woods to be alone with his thoughts for a while. Everyone else was still at the vehicles, their spirits down considerably and for good reason. But, despite their grief, they couldn't deny the hunger pains in their stomachs. They hadn't eaten since the day before, except for Judith who had her bottles mixed with what was left of the powdered milk. They had run out of what little food supplies they had brought from Greensboro. With so many of them, the food was spread thin to begin with and they hadn't been successful in finding any more on the trip to Richmond.

They had found a few items back at the Shirewilt, but in the chaos of getting amputating Tyreese's arm and getting out of there, they had dropped the bags and left everything behind.

"What are we going to do about food?" Eugene asked. "My stomach is growling something fierce and I know I'm not the only one who's hungry. We should ask Rick what—"

"How about you put a pin in it, Mullet Man," Georgie snapped, finally uttering what she'd been calling him only in her head. "Yes, we're all hungry, but griping about it ain't gonna change things. In case you didn't realize, we just buried a friend and I think that calls for some time to mourn and not harp on Rick with every issue. What? You don't think he ain't hungry, too?"

"Geez, woman," Eugene mumbled. "Don't get your panties in a twist. I was just talk—"

Out of her own grief and anger and overall aggravation, Georgie lunged at Eugene, but he was lucky there were a few people between him and her. Tara and Glenn held her back and she shook them off, throwing her hands up, showing she was fine.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," she assured, but not before glaring over at Eugene. The mother in her came out a little bit. "Smart-mouth me one more time, boy, and I will kick your teeth in and complete your redneck look."

Eugene seemed to sink into himself as Georgie turned away from everyone else and stalked off into the woods as well.

Right about now, Rick was the only one who seemed she could feel calm with. He wasn't far off either, so it barely even took a minute to reach him and, when she did, he was sitting on the ground, leaning up against a tree. In his hands he had a dead leaf and was picking it apart and tossing the pieces away from him in a daze. He sensed someone approaching, though. When he looked up and realized it was Georgie, he seemed to perk up slightly; more than he probably would have for anyone else, save for his children.

He felt a little embarrassed, however, to have her find him there, wallowing. He turned his face away from her as if somehow that would make her not see him.

"So, I almost scratched Eugene's eyes out a minute ago," she announced, her hands on her hips.

Rick grunted some sort of laugh at the image she gave him.

"I actually called him Mullet Man to his face," she continued, sitting down beside him. "I've only been doing that in my head."

"You, too?" he finally spoke; a ghost of a smile upon his lips.

"Yeah," Georgie nodded. "I also threatened to kick his teeth in."

"What'd he do?"

"Be himself, pretty much."

Rick tilted his head and looked over at her. "I'm sorry if I just walked away from all of you like that, I just needed to clear my head."

"Don't apologize for that. You keep saying sorry to everyone for all these deaths that happen to us and around us as if you could've done something, when you couldn't have. You're sitting here, blaming yourself for everything that's gone wrong because you're the leader of us and apparently you think that means it's all your fault and only _your_ burden to bear," she commented, watching him look away. "Well, I got news for you, Officer Handsome: it's _not_ your fault, and it's _not_ your burden."

Rick let what she said sink in and then he knitted his brow together before turning back to look at her with a smirk. "Officer Handsome?"

Georgie shrugged, smirking back. "It got a smile outta ya, didn't it?"

She shimmied over to him a bit and made the bold move of climbing up into his lap. His hands immediately went up in the air and waited for her to sit, just staring up at her and feeling his face flush with heat, amongst other places.

"We're too sad," she whispered. "There's not enough happiness in our lives anymore."

"I agree," he whispered back, his lips almost close enough to brush against hers.

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, her thumbs sweeping over his dirty, scratchy beard, Georgie looked him in the eye. "We need to do something about that."

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, bringing his face closer to hers. "We do."

Encircling his arms around her waist, Rick moved his hands up her back and pulled her up against his chest before claiming her lips in the name of lust. It was such a feverish and frenzied kiss that their teeth clanked together once or twice and lips were gently bitten. The feel of each other's breath within their mouths and their hands roaming the other incited Rick to spin her around, off his lap and pin her to the ground. Leaning down over her body, Rick knelt with one of her legs between his. Georgie's hand found their way into the dirty and stringy brown curls atop his head while he lowered his body weight onto of her. He pulled his lips away from hers only to leave a trail of heated kisses down her chin and then down her neck where he began to suckle at the skin of her collar bone.

They were forgetting where they were, and they didn't seem to care in that moment.

They needed this distraction, and they wanted each other; to hold on to each other.

Although they were both very much clothed, Georgie could still feel him upon her inner thigh as he ground boldly against her. And just as his hands began to slip underneath her shirt, they were brought back to the harsh light of day.

"Hey! Rick! Georgie!" Abraham called out from a distance.

The pair looked in the direction Abraham's voice came from and then they looked at each other, ceasing all movement and holding their breaths in anticipation of Abraham or anyone else approaching and finding them in that position.

"We should move out!"

No one walked into the woods and in on Rick and Georgie in their compromising position and, for that, they were grateful.

"Yeah, alright!" Rick shouted. "We'll be right there!" He looked sheepishly at her and then leaned in for one, long kiss. "To be continued," he teased.

Georgie smirked as he lifted his weight off her and then knelt, leaning back on his feet. As she sat up, she could feel her heartbeat leveling out to a steadier pace and she watched as he gestured in the direction of the rest of the group.

"You should go ahead of me," he spoke, placing his hands into his lap. "I can't just yet."

Georgie looked down, got his meaning and then looked back up at him with a laugh; with him, not at him. "Okay."

Climbing to her feet, Georgie straightened her clothes and ruffled her hair a bit so it didn't look manhandled. Letting out a sigh, she turned to walk off, but Rick grabbed onto her hand before she could. She looked back at him again and he slowly let her hand slip from her grasp until he was holding onto only one finger, just like she did for Judith.

When she was finally, and unfortunately, free of Rick, Georgie walked through the trees and out of the woods, onto the road where the vehicles were parked. Most everyone had begun to climb inside whatever car they were going to travel in.

Daryl wasn't one of those people.

As Georgie walked past him, he snatched something from her hair and she whipped her head around, feeling around her hair to figure out what he'd done.

He was holding a leaf in his hand. "Why you got a leaf in your hair?"

"It, uh—it probably fell out of one of the trees," she lied. "Have you seen my hair? A family of mice could get lost in there for days."

Daryl flicked the leaf to the ground and Georgie watched how it drifted from side to side as it fell.

"Mmhmm," Daryl looked at her, almost as if he could tell and it made her blush.

Quickly, she turned her head away and went over to the Suburban and found Carl and Judith inside with Noah. All three kids were in the middle seat, where Tyreese had been and the windows were down.

"You want shotgun?" Carl asked. "My dad's probably driving this one again if that's okay."

"Like hell he is," Georgie smiled. "It's my turn at the wheel."

She slipped into the driver's seat and looked in the side view mirror in time to Rick coming out of the woods. He stopped to talk to Daryl and was straightening his shirt, and then Abraham and Carol walked up as well, probably to discuss where they would all be going.

When Rick finally approached the Suburban, he went straight for the driver's side only to find Georgie there.

"Shotgun for you," she said, giving him an impish look which he reciprocated as discreetly as possible.

He tapped the side of the vehicle and nodded. "Alright. I could use a break anyway." Looking into the middle seat, he saw his son and on the floor, in a box lined with a shirt, Judith lay while Noah had climbed into the very back. "Ya'll buckle in." As he walked around the back of the Suburban, he made his way to the passenger side door and opened it. Once he was inside and the door was shut, he turned to Georgie. "Abraham's gonna take the lead."

Georgie nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Once all the vehicles were off driving down the road, one after the other, Georgie began steering with only her left hand.

Carl and Noah couldn't see it from where they sat, but Georgie and Rick were holding hands on the front seat as they drove along in silence.

She slipped into the driver's seat and looked in the side view mirror in time to Rick coming out of the woods. He stopped to talk to Daryl and was straightening his shirt, and then Abraham and Carol walked up as well, probably to discuss where they would all be going.

When Rick finally approached the Suburban, he went straight for the driver's side only to find Georgie there.

"Shotgun for you," she said, giving him an impish look which he reciprocated as discreetly as possible.

He tapped the side of the vehicle and nodded. "Alright. I could use a break anyway." Looking into the middle seat, he saw his son and on the floor, in a box lined with a shirt, Judith lay while Noah had climbed into the very back. "Ya'll buckle in." As he walked around the back of the Suburban, he made his way to the passenger side door and opened it. Once he was inside and the door was shut, he turned to Georgie. "Abraham's gonna take the lead."

Georgie nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Once all the vehicles were off driving down the road, one after the other, Georgie began steering with only her left hand.

Carl and Noah couldn't see it from where they sat, but Georgie and Rick were holding hands on the front seat as they drove along in silence.


	13. Us And Them

**Author's Note: As usual, thank you for the wonderful reviews. xoxo**

* * *

"_I want to see you _

_As you are now _

_Every single day _

_That I am living _

_Painted in flames _

_All pealing thunder _

_Be the lightning in me _

_That strikes relentless__"_

― Snow Patrol

* * *

The sun was such a mercilessly deceiving son of a bitch, but only in that it gave the impression that the world was a bright and wonderful place. It didn't deceive with the heat, though. Not for one minute. No, the world was anything but cheery, despite the obvious apocalyptic reasons. Everyone's spirits had found a new low. With each person mourning the different losses to their group within the last month, and the fact that they were tired, hungry and thirsty, nothing seemed bright at all for their futures.

Not long after getting back on the road following Tyreese's funeral, they had come upon an abandoned vehicle with a box inside that contained two bottles of water and five pouches of freeze dried cherries. Considering they had nothing in the way of food and very little left of their water supply, any little bit helped. It wasn't to fill their stomachs, but it would have to do until they could find something more.

Each person was only given a small handful of the freeze dried cherries. When Rick went to hand Georgie her share, she waved him off and declined from where they were sitting beside each other on the side of the road, with everyone else.

"No, thanks."

He tilted his head and shoved his hand forward more insistently. "You haven't eaten since early yesterday, same as everyone else. You _need_ to eat."

"I know I do, but I can't." Rick seemed confused, so she clarified. "I'm allergic to cherries. If I eat those, if I even hold them in my hand and whatever oil or juice is left in or on them gets in my mouth, my tongue will swell, my throat will close up and I'll more than likely kick the bucket." As Rick pulled the cherries away, he frowned as she added, "If cherries are the thing that kills me, what with how the world is, I think I'll be somewhat disappointed. What an anticlimax."

"Well, it's not fair we get to eat and you don't."

"And I can't watch everyone else go hungry because I have a food allergy." Georgie shrugged. "Give my share to Carl."

"I can't eat if you can't."

"Rick," she chastised.

"No," he asserted. Then he called to his son, "Carl, come get these."

Carl strode over to his father with confusion written on his face. "Didn't you have any yet?"

"No, those are for you or to share with the others."

"Aren't you hungry?" Carl asked, taking the cherries from his father.

"No," Rick lied.

"That's bullshit."

"Hey. Language."

Carl gestured to Georgie. "She isn't eating. I'll share with you, Georgie."

"Thank you, but I can't. I'm allergic to cherries."

"And I'm not eating as a sign of solidarity," Rick informed. "Now eat."

"Well, then I want give my share away, too. I'll do the same," Carl offered, sweetly.

"No, you're not," Georgie muttered. "You're a growing boy and you need it more than us anyway."

"Eat your damned cherries," Rick enforced more vocally, but saying it with love. "We don't know when or where our next meal is coming from."

"If you can call this a meal," they heard Eugene mumble to himself.

"I swear to Christ, Eugene, I meant what I said earlier," Georgie growled at him. "I will turn you into a Jack o' Lantern."

Looking at each other, Rick and Georgie smirked, but other than that the mood was still depressing. And so it remained for the next day and a half, when two of their three vehicles all ran out of gas, leaving them with only the white van. There was no more food and water, except for half a bottle of water they spared to give to Judith. Everyone seemed to agree that her dietary needs had to be met before theirs.

They were hungry, they were dehydrated, they were hot and they were tired.

They had split up into small groups to check for anything in the way of food or water and everyone came up empty. Returning to the van, they sat down on the road or in the van, just sitting and waiting; Daryl, Maggie and Sasha had yet to return.

Their stomachs ached, their mouths were dry and the heat left them feeling extra lethargic.

When the remaining three returned, also empty-handed, they all piled into the van and it was back on the road they went. They were sixty miles outside of Washington and they knew there wasn't enough gas to get them there. So when the van died from lack of fuel, they weren't surprised.

They simply gathered their gear and continued on by foot, in the blistering Virginia sun, weak and slow.

Rick and Daryl were at the immediate front of their group, with Carol and Georgie just behind them; the latter carrying Judith. Rick turned around eventually, looking well past everyone to a bunch of walkers on the road behind them.

"We're not at our strongest," Rick commented. "We'll get 'em when it's best. High ground, something like that. They're not going anywhere." After a few moments, he continued, "It's been three weeks since Atlanta. I know you lost something back there."

Judith felt heavier than usual in Georgie's arms and she knew it was because the child was tired and warm and needed to eat. As Judith began to fuss, Daryl looked over his shoulder at her.

"She's hungry," he said to Rick.

"She's okay," Rick insisted, looking back at his daughter as well, but his voice sounded more wishful than certain. "She's going to be okay."

"We need to find water, food," Georgie rasped, her throat dry.

"We'll hit something in the road," Rick replied, looking up what little amount of clouds there were in the sky. "It's gonna rain sooner or later."

Daryl looked over toward the woods on their right. "I'm gonna head out; see what I can find."

"Hey, don't be too long."

Carol moved closer to follow Daryl. "I'll go with you," she offered.

"I got it," the archer dismissed.

Carol simply smirked and continued after him anyway. "You gonna stop me?" she asked him as he turned back and smirked back at her.

No, he wasn't going to stop her.

Soon, the group drew closer together; the heat and their troubles not seeming to let up. Judith was full on crying now and the walkers had gained ground simply because the group's pace had slowed. When they looked over their shoulders, it seemed like somewhat of an incentive to try and pick up their pace and put some more distance between "us and them" until they had the better advantage for taking them out.

Coming upon an overpass with a steep ravine on both sides, Rick dispatched his children further up the road with Georgie, Tara, Rosita, Gabriel and Eugene. That left Rick, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Abraham and Sasha to deal with the oncoming walkers. When Georgie offered to help, Rick had pushed her gently back, insisting he preferred her safe, back with his son and daughter. She couldn't deny she wasn't a bit disappointed to get her aggressions out on the walkers, but she was thankful because she was just so tired. She didn't think she had that energy in her to take on the walkers, but she didn't want to admit it. And, also, she was considerably flattered he ranked his desire to keep her safe with that of his children.

The group of six, closest to the walkers, stood in smaller groups of three on either side of the road, luring the walkers toward them, and then pushing said walkers into the ravine. It was all going well, too, with none of the six needing to exert too much energy. One shove and the walkers easily stumbled down the steep embankment. However, Sasha seemed to be marching to the beat of her own drum as she took the walkers on with her knife, forcing the other five to dispatch them as well. During the struggle, Sasha became so single-minded that she nearly stabbed Michonne, and accidentally cut Abraham on the upper arm.

Passing Judith to Carl, and leaving him her Beretta, just in case, Georgie decided she couldn't bring herself to stay back any longer. The group was struggling and she ran toward them when she noticed Rick about to be bitten on the arm by a walker. As Georgie got closer, Daryl and Carol returned. Daryl was quick to grab the walker's hair and ripping off its scalp in the process of pulling it off Rick. Georgie arrived soon enough to stab one walker in the head with her hunting knife and then helped Glenn shove the body away, watching it tumble down the ravine with the others.

After the walkers were dead, Georgie turned to see Michonne reprimanding Sasha, who stared back with an angry defiance. When Georgie felt a hand on her arm she jumped, thinking it was another walker to be killed until she realized it was just Rick, looking at her as he caught his breath.

"I thought I told you to stay back there with the others."

"What're you gonna do, Rick?" she smirked. "You gonna send me to bed without supper?"

Rick narrowed his gaze at her and shook his head. He wasn't mad at her or anything of the sort. Her response actually made him smile briefly, before her turned his attention back to the others who were also catching their breaths.

Turning away from the corpses on the road, the now nine adults, walked off across to the other side of the overpass to join the others.

"Thanks for helping," Rick muttered for Georgie's ears only.

"It's what I do," she replied, tiredly.

Once on the other side, she took Judith back from Carl and the group continued on.

A while later, the group came upon some abandoned cars on the road.

"Dad, look," Carl announced.

Daryl stopped. "I'm gonna head into the woods, circle back."

"May I come with?" Carol asked of him.

"Nah," he dismissed. "No, just me."

Once Daryl was off again, this time alone, the rest began to approach the cars to inspect them for food and water, first and foremost. Unfortunately, when the search came up empty, they all resigned themselves to sitting up off the road to wait for Daryl to come back, which was close to an hour after he first left.

Georgie was sitting up on the slight incline near the base of the woods, between Carol and Michonne, occasionally glancing over at Rick who sat with his back up against Carl, who had taken over holding Judith. A few times she could tell by the way Rick attempted to look over his shoulder, he was trying to glimpse her, but his angle was all wrong. Nevertheless, it made her heart flutter, and that was a feeling she had grown to cherish again for the first time in a long time.

To be wanted, to be desired by a man again, especially in this world.

It wasn't anything she took lightly.

She found herself conflicted though. On one hand she didn't want to jump the gun and get too invested with him in case she lost him. But, on the other hand, they didn't know how long they had these days so why not make the most of the time they _did_ have, right?

Therein laid her problem.

With the crackle of branches among the trees across the road, everyone suddenly perked up and got on the defensive, reaching for their weapons. But it was only Daryl returning. The archer looked at Rick, who shook his head, and then came out of the trees and onto the road.

Abraham pulled a bottle of what looked to be whiskey out of his bag, which was technically the only thing any of them had in the way of liquid.

"So all we found was booze?" Tara questioned.

"Yeah," Rosita replied.

"It's not gonna help," Tara added, noting Abraham taking a sip.

"He knows that."

"It's gonna make it worse."

"Yes, it is."

"He's a grown man," Eugene commented. "And I truly do not know if things can get worse."

"They can," Georgie spoke up. "I could still follow through with my threat from a couple days ago."

From within the trees across the way where Daryl had come from, there was rustling once again, which was followed by growling. Everyone became very alert when they noticed a small pack of mangy, dirty dogs coming out of the woods and begin to bark at the group. Each person, except for Carl who was holding onto Judith, seemed to grab for their weapons, but mainly their blades, to save on bullets.

Before the dogs could even make a move to attack, five silenced gunshots rang out and the dogs dropped dead. The group looked up to see Sasha standing with her rifle.

Rick stood up, looking somewhat irritated, and turned around; stepping toward the trees on their side of the road. He picked up a long stick and broke it into shorter pieces across his knee. Daryl, king of skinning wild animals, took on the main task of grabbing the dogs and doing the same thing to them he would to squirrels and rabbits.

Georgie couldn't bring herself to watch. It just made her think of the dog she used to have and it made her sad. However, her hunger won out and she wasn't about to turn down the dog meat they were quite obviously going to cook and eat. They were all desperate at that point and would eat any animal that crossed their path.

After the dogs were skinned and cut up, the sticks were used to grill the meat up over a small fire they built. Pushing aside the fact that it was dog they were devouring, eating in general just felt glorious and their stomachs all relished the fact. Except for Noah who was refusing, staring off at one of the dog collars when Sasha approached him with pieces of wood she dropped to the ground

Georgie didn't hear the interaction between the pair, but whatever was said got Noah to eat.

That was all that mattered.

* * *

As the day progressed into either later afternoon or early evening, judging by the arch of the sun in the sky, the group was once more off walking down the road. Glenn was trying to offer what little bit of water he had at some point found to the group, and then Daryl took off again, apparently to look for more water.

The air was practically sizzling and the cicadas were singing strong, and the group just really needed some sort of reprieve from the heat. What they wouldn't give for that pool back in Greensboro again.

They had all eventually stopped up the road a ways when they found jugs and bottles of water in the middle of the road with a piece of paper stuck to it all that stated it was "from a friend." Rick told them not to touch the water just as Daryl returned. Rick walked up to him and showed him the note, and they looked around for a hint of anyone nearby.

"What else are we gonna do?" Tara wondered, meekly.

"Not this," Rick replied. "We don't know who left it."

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it," Eugene remarked, staring at the water like it was a steak dinner with all the fixings, served on a plate of gold. "But I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend."

"What if it isn't? What if they put something in it?" Georgie questioned Mullet Man.

Not waiting, Eugene reached down and grabbed a bunch of water, causing Rosita to call out his name, disapprovingly.

"What are you doing, dude?" Tara asked him.

His response was, "Quality assurance," as he twisted the cap off.

However, Abraham stepped forward and smacked the bottle out of his hand before he could take a sip. Some of the water splashed onto Eugene's face and he just stared in surprise at the ginger haired man.

"We can't," Rick insisted, staring at Eugene with a firm gaze.

Everyone looked up at the sky suddenly at the sound of thunder rumbling. They hadn't even noticed the sun had gone behind a bunch of clouds. It was still so hot that it hadn't made a difference if the sky was still blue. And as the rain came down over them, followed by a thunderclap, the group began to laugh; a sound that had become rarer than the thunderclap itself.

They held their mouths open, wiped the rainwater over their faces and arms to help cool and clean themselves off. Rick looked at his children with a smile, and then over to Georgie with a different kind of smile as the water matted both their hair down and made their respective curls limper and stringier than it was from their grime. Tara and Rosita, still smiling and laughing like the others, got down and lay upon the road as everyone's clothes became pleasantly and welcomingly soaked.

Only three people seemed immune to the joy the others were feeling; Maggie, Sasha and Daryl, who were still so torn up about their recent losses.

Georgie would've been one of them, but she had to mentally force herself not to be. She had always known there was the chance her son was dead, no matter how much hope she had been clinging to, and finding his body back in Greensboro had been the nail in that coffin, no pun intended. She had to finally put her son's memory to rest with her daughter. She would always love them and miss them with the fierceness of a thousand raging bulls, but she had chosen to invest the love she still had in the lives of Carl and Judith. With the two of them, she could still have a purpose in the world and transferring her love to them made her grief easier to bear.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Gabriel was crying and Georgie felt her heart break for him a little.

She knew the preacher, who had burned his clerical collar earlier, was torn up and conflicted about the things he had done, or not done where his congregation had been concerned. As a show of solidarity, Georgie placed a gentle hand upon his arm so he knew he wasn't alone.

"Everybody, get the bags," Rick called out; crouching down to pull out a few empty bottles with Abraham's help. "Anything you can find."

The others began to grab their empty bottles and set them upright on the road so the rain water filled them up. Judith began to cry, so Carl covered her head with her blanket and their father's sheriff hat, as the rain came down harder.

Louder thunderclaps and darker storm clouds in the distance got everyone's attention. Rick got back up to his feet and stared off at it all.

Suddenly the rain didn't seem like too much of a blessing anymore.

Too much of a good thing and all that…

"Let's keep moving," Rick announced.

"There's a barn," Daryl leaned in an informed.

"Where?"

* * *

The group had gathered up whatever what they had been able to bottle and the rest of their gear before following Daryl into the woods. Down somewhat of an incline was a clear path among the trees and up ahead was an old, brown barn. More thunder boomed overhead as Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Abraham and Maggie warily stepped inside the structure; their weapons and a few flashlights drawn to make sure it was safe while the others remained outside in the pouring rain. Carol slipped in as well before the others were given the all clear to come in.

As night had fallen and the storm outside raged on, inside a lantern had been found and lit, and a small fire was burning for light and heat; which was ironic, considering the rain is what they had all needed and wanted earlier to cool themselves down.

Off to the side of the fire, Carl was asleep with Judith pulled up against him and also sleeping. Georgie sat across from Rick, between Glenn and Daryl, and watched how the man she was growing to care deeply for looked upon both of his children with love and also some concern.

"He's gonna be okay," Carol assured. "He bounces back more than any of us do."

"I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now; in this. But I think I got it wrong." He glanced over at Georgie briefly before looking down at the ground. "Growing up's getting used to the world. This is easier for them."

"This isn't the world. This isn't it," Michonne insisted.

"It might be," Georgie muttered, drawing circles in the dirty floor with her hunting knife. "It might."

"That's giving up."

Georgie looked at Michonne. "It's reality."

"Until we see otherwise, this is what we have to live with," Rick added. Everyone fell silent for a few moments until he spoke back up again. "When I was a kid, I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn't answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so…so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill _him_. But he got _real_ quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up and told himself, 'Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.' And then after a few years of pretending he was dead he made it out alive. And that's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do and then we get to live. But no matter what we find in DC," Rick looked at each and every one around the fire, settling on Georgie last, "I know we'll be okay, because _this_ is how _we_ survive. We tell ourselves…that _we_ are the walking dead."

Daryl shook his head. "We ain't them."

Rick looked at the archer as he got up to his knees and snapped some of the twigs to throw on the fire. "We're not them," Rick agreed, assuring his friend. "Hey. We're _not_."

"We ain't them," Daryl repeated himself, standing up and walking off with his crossbow toward the entrance of the barn which had been chained shut earlier.

Thunder continued to boom and crash, and the doors rattled from the high winds. Georgie got up too then, but not to follow after Daryl, but to duck around one of the alcoves where some kind of animal was probably kept in the past. She wasn't upset about anything in particular. She simply felt the need to take some leave of the group and drown out the sounds of the storm in peace and maybe get some sleep in the process.

The way she abruptly got up and walked away, though, could've been misconstrued as being upset, which gave Rick the need to get up and walk after her in thinking he had to assure her as well; that they would all be fine.

He found her crouched down behind the alcove, snapping her head up in pleasant surprise to see him there. When he realized she was smiling up at him, he crouched down; resting his arms on his thighs and letting his hands dangle between his knees.

"I thought you were upset," he spoke quietly.

"No," she shook her head. "I mean, yeah, we have plenty to be upset about, but I'm okay. I just wanted some privacy."

"Oh." Rick nodded and moved slightly, as if he was about to leave her alone, but then he stopped and eyed her. "There room for two in this 'privacy'?"

A knowing smile began to pull at the corners of her lips and she bobbed her head in silent confirmation. Sidling down beside her, Rick reached an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him before placing a kiss to her temple.

"What will the others think if they find us like this?" she asked him in a whisper.

"I don't care," he replied. "What this is," he gestured between them, "is between us and nothing for them to be concerned about. If no one's bothered that Maggie and Glenn are a married couple or that Abraham and Rosita like to fuck like rabbits when there's only a thin wall separating them from the rest of us in the middle of the night, I think we're pretty tame and boring by comparison, and nothing that warrants shock and awe."

Georgie chuckled a little, turning to look up at his profile. "Are you suggesting we _give_ 'em some shock and awe?"

He met her gaze and what little light there was around in the alcove was enough for her to see the lust building in his eyes. But it wasn't only lust anymore and it caused the butterflies in Georgie's stomach to reprise their fluttering. As Rick lifted his hand from around her shoulder and moved it into her damp hair, he turned her head more so that he could lean in and kiss her properly. When she sighed approvingly against his lips, he leaned them back onto the ground and began to move on top of her again as they had been in the woods after Tyreese's funeral.

Georgie brought her own hands up into Rick's hair and gripped it firm enough to incite a groan from him as he opened his mouth more to give her tongue access to his. All he wanted to do in that moment was be with her in the best way possible; to feel her bare skin against his bare skin. The more aroused she got him with every shift and move of her body underneath him the more clouded his head felt and the more flush he began to feel all over; just like a teenager about to score in the backseat of car. Except, for Rick and Georgie, this situation was more like a theoretical car at the theoretical drive-in movies, where anyone could happen by.

They weren't exactly in the privacy of a bedroom like Abraham and Rosita had been. The idea of Carl potentially seeing his bare ass if they went any further knocked him down a few pegs. If his son woke up and saw them in the heat of the moment, he didn't want to scar the kid or maybe even upset him. After all, the boy's mother hadn't even been dead a year. But, also, Rick really liked Georgie and the way she made him feel.

Just as she had her hands on his belt buckle and was beginning to undo it for him, the sounds of the barn's entrance doors banging louder, and the sounds of walkers snarling and gasping, brought what they were doing to an abrupt end.

Rick clamored to his knees and then stood up. Georgie rolled over and got to her feet as well, and then both of them ran out from behind the alcove where they spotted Daryl, Maggie and Sasha struggling to keep the doors shut. The others had been alerted to the situation as well. They all began to join the trio at the doors, keeping them shut by pushing on them with their hands outstretched or by leaning against them with their backs. There seemed to be more walkers, though, and their weight against the outside of the doors caused the group inside to lose their footing in the wet dirt at the entrance.

As they held their ground, he winds outside howled so deafeningly that it sounded like the end of the world.

Again.

Rick looked to his right, at Daryl, and then to his left, at Georgie.

There was a mix of fear and determination in her eyes, as were his, but Rick was able to look at her in a way that felt like they would be alright.

* * *

Eventually, the storm passed and the group no longer needed to hold the doors shut. They didn't know what happened to the walkers and why they stopped trying to get in. The storm definitely had some part to play in that, but they knew not to what extent.

After gathering their wits about them, they decided to call it a night.

As they settled into separate areas to sleep, Rick, who was holding Judith, grabbed Georige's hand and made the bold move of kissing her with others nearby. Whether or not anyone saw, the pair was oblivious. As Rick lay down upon the ground with Judith backed up against his chest, Georgie laid down beside him, but with a respectable gap between their bodies while Carl moved to lay perpendicular to them, at their heads.

Rick and Georgie looked at Carl, who didn't seem to notice the closeness of the two adults, or possibly care. They then looked at each other as Georgie reached a finger out for Judith to hold and almost immediately the toddler grabbed onto it, like a child to its security blanket.

In response, Rick reached out his arm, which was draped over his daughter and cover both Judith and Georgie's hands.

With a loving smile, Rick closed his eyes, but Georgie kept looking at him and Judith.

She felt content, as if this was where she was meant to be. Not necessarily or literally in the barn, but there with Rick and his children; the possibility of a new family together.

Smirking at the notion, Georgie let sleep soon consume her.


	14. Where Are We Going?

"_The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." _

_― _Maya Angelou

* * *

At daybreak, once everyone had woken up, they began to mill about the barn. First they checked outside, after Daryl had mentioned Maggie and Sasha had gone off together for a walk, and that's when they noticed the destruction. Trees had been uprooted or knocked down and a large path within the woods had been created by what had most likely been a tornado the night before, and by some stroke of luck or an act of God, the barn was spared along with all of them inside it. The walkers that had been outside hadn't. They were ripped in halves, impaled by branches, crushed by tree trunks and, in the case of one particular walker, was dangling a few feet up in a tree by its legs.

Back inside the barn, the puttering began.

They still didn't have food, but now they had water; not much, but enough. They used some of it to clean their faces and just feel a little more human. Others cleaned their weapons or just stared off at nothing.

There also seemed to be a change in the air. The gloom of their recent losses didn't seem as hard to bear and surviving the storm gave them a little perspective on things. In Rick's case, after the move he'd made after the storm passed, in kissing Georgie for all to see, he had new possibilities to consider as he sat there on the ground, leaning against a post Judith sitting up between his calves.

Georgie sat across from him, beside Carol, cleaning her hunting knife, as Abraham sat kitty-corner to them with his gun out.

"That was some statement Rick made last night," Carol whispered.

Georgie lifted her head to the older woman. "Hmm?"

Carol eyed Georgie and smirked knowingly. "You know what I'm talking about."

Georgie felt her face grow flush as she tried to hide her own smile. "Oh, _that_."

"Yeah." Pocketing her knife, Carol turned and glanced at Rick who seemed lost in a daydream before bringing her attention back to Georgie. "How long has it been going on?"

"What? I—nothing's happened. I mean, nothing's _really_ happened. Not—not yet anyway."

Carol was full on grinning at how the younger woman fumbled over herself. "You sure? I mean, I'm not brand new. I've been around long enough to know the looks you two have been passing to each other since Atlanta. Not to mention the two of you have gone off together, alone, a few times since then."

Georgie looked almost mortified. "We've…kissed…several times, but that's the bulk of it—my God, you are like an old washer woman digging for gossip." She swatted Carol in the arm.

Carol chuckled as a response. It just felt so good to do. "Hey, in all seriousness, I'm glad for you both. You're good people, and you deserve happiness where you can get it."

"Oh my God," Georgie rolled her eyes. "I can't have this conversation with you right now. It just feels too weird."

"Yeah, you shouldn't be sitting here with me; you should be over there with him." As an afterthought, Carol added, "Go make googly eyes at each other."

Georgie swatted Carol one last time before standing up and doing just that; moving to sit down beside Rick. He snapped out of whatever he was thinking about and looked up at her and let his gaze follow her as she sat. She turned slightly to face him, eyeing him up.

"So, Carol is starting to tease me about us apparently. She saw that kiss last night, but she's given her blessing if that means anything," she laughed. Georgie then grew a little serious. "You really caught me off guard with that, though. Not the fact that you kissed me, but the when and the where you did it. I wasn't expecting such a…declaration, I guess."

Rick grabbed her hand in his. "Sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I just felt like it was the thing to do and I'm not ashamed if you're not."

"Of course I'm not," she assured. "You just…"

Judith gurgled a happy little sound and flapped her hands around, playing with thin air and it cut into both Rick and Georgie's attentions. Pulling at her hand, he forced Georgie to move closer up against her. He didn't feel much like talking about anything at the moment. His head was just reeling with so many thoughts, but having her right there, like that, with his daughter safely near and his son also nearby…it was a comfort.

"Hey. Everyone?" came Maggie's voice as the barn doors opened. "This is Aaron."

Everyone seemed to jump to their feet as Maggie stepped inside with some unknown man _―_ Aaron, apparently _―_ and Sasha behind them. The group all grabbed for their weapons while Georgie just grabbed Judith. Rick put an arm out and held his two ladies _―_ as he thought of them in his head _―_ back in protection. Daryl darted outside with his crossbow to give a check for others and Rick cocked his gun in case as he stepped closer to the stranger in their mists.

"We met him outside. He's by himself," Maggie continued. "We took his weapons and we took his gear."

That didn't stop Daryl from giving Aaron a pat-down anyway to be on the safe side. Despite the man looking clean and unassuming, and considering the group's previous experiences with outsiders, they were taking zero chances.

"Hi," Aaron greeted timidly.

Judith began to cry and Rick looked at Georgie, giving her a nod of the head. She stepped back with Carl, keeping both children out of Aaron's direct line of sight.

"Nice to meet you," Aaron continued. But as he stepped forward to offer his hand in a shake to Rick, Daryl moved behind him and the gestured stopped the newcomer in his tracks.

"You said he had a weapon?" Rick asked of Maggie, who stepped forward and handed over a small revolver. He took it, looked at it briefly and smelled the barrel to see if it had been fired recently. He then looked back at Aaron, still suspicious, as he pocketed the gun behind him. "There's something you need?"

"He has a camp, nearby," Sasha said. "He wants us to audition for membership."

"I wish there was another word," Aaron smirked. "Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of a dance troupe. That's only on Friday nights." His joke fell flat and he knew it. "Um, and it's not a camp. It's a community. I think you all would make valuable additions. But it's not my call. My job is to convince you all to follow me back home. I know. If I were you, I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting into. Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack?" Sasha hesitated, but quickly consented, walking up to Rick with Aaron's backpack she had been wearing. "Front pocket, there's an envelope." Rick knelt down with the bag and unzipped the pocket in question, pulling an envelope out. "There's _no_ _way_ I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community. That's why I brought those. I apologize in advance for the picture quality. We just found an old camera store last—"

"Nobody gives a shit," Daryl interrupted.

Aaron looked over his shoulder at him. "You're absolutely, one hundred percent right." Turning back to Rick, who had removed the photographs from the envelope, he continued, "That's the first picture I wanted to show you because nothing I say about our community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us, you will be. Each panel in that wall is a 15-foot-high, 12-foot-wide slab of solid steel framed by cold-rolled steel beams and square tubing. Nothing alive or dead gets through that without our say-so." Rick stood up and it was hard to tell what he was thinking, but Aaron pressed on nevertheless. "Like I said, security is obviously important. In fact, there's only one resource more critical to our community's survival: the people."

Rick looked over his shoulder at Michonne who was immediately behind him, and then to Georgie before looking back forward. His expression seemed doubtful and amused at the same time but there was still no telling what he was truly thinking through Aaron's spiel.

"Together we're strong. You can make us even stronger. The next picture, you'll see inside the gates," Aaron continued, as Rick began to walk forward with that swagger in his walk Georgie than grown to love just as much as him. "Our community was first construc—"

Without warning, Rick pulled back his fist and cold-cocked Aaron, knocking his flat on his ass and out cold. Rick just looked down at the man as several of the others clamored to him, to tie him up. As he turned and walk back toward Michonne, Georgie and his kids, Michonne pulled him aside.

"So we're clear, that look wasn't a 'let's attack that man' look. It was a 'he seems like an okay guy to me' look," Michonne informed quietly, a little pissed with Rick.

"We got to secure him." Rick pointed at Carl. "Dump his pack. Let's see what this guy really is."

"_Rick_," Michonne compelled.

"Everybody else, we need eyes in every direction. They're coming for us. We might not know how or when, but they are." He looked at everyone, wanting them be prepared.

"Me and Sasha, we didn't see him," Maggie spoke. "If he had wanted to hurt us, he could've."

"Anybody see anything?" Rick persisted.

"Just a lot of places to hide," Glenn replied, peering outside.

"Alright, keep looking." Rick walked up to Carl. "What did you find?"

"Never seen a gun like that before."

"It's a flare gun," Georgie replied, shifting Judith on her hip. "It's used for alerting others where you are in case of emergency." She looked up at Rick who caught her gaze.

They both seemed to share the same thought. If Aaron had a flare gun, there were definitely one or more people nearby.

Aaron groaned, waking back up. "That's a hell of a right cross there, Rick."

"Sit him up."

"I think it's better if—" Maggie began.

"It's okay," Aaron insisted, groaning again.

Rick gestured at him. "He's fine. Sit him up."

"You're being cautious. I completely understand."

Aaron was being too cooperative. Georgie was actually starting to find it a bit annoying.

"How many of your people are out there? You have a flare gun. You have it to signal your people. How many of them are there?"

Aaron sighed. "Does it matter?"

"Yes. Yes, it does."

"I mean, of course, it matters how many people are actually out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there? Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say eight, thirty-two, four hundred and forty-four, zero—no matter what I say, you're not going to trust me."

"Well, it's hard to trust anyone who smiles after getting punched in the face."

"How about a guy who leaves bottles of water for you in the road?" Aaron questioned.

Rick and Daryl both looked at two of the bottles of water from the road. They had taken it with them, but not drunk from them yet.

"How long you people been following us?" Daryl asked.

"Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail. Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water, you never turned on each other. You're _survivors_ and you're _people_. Like I said, and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that is the _most_ important resource in the world."

The group looked among themselves just as Rick slowly approached Aaron. Quietly, but with a firm and strained voice, he repeated, "How many others are out there?"

"One," Aaron answered, but Rick shook his head. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. If it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real?" He looked at the group, imploringly. "What if I drove you to the community? All of you. We leave now; we'll get there by lunch."

Rick looked around. "I'm not sure how the fifteen of us are going to fit in the car you and your one friend drove down here in."

"We drove separately," Aaron remarked. "If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home. There's enough room for all of us."

"And you're parked just a couple miles away, right?" Carol questioned.

"East on Ridge Road, just after you hit Route 16. We wanted to get them closer, but then the storm came, blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."

"Yeah, you've really thought this through." Rick wasn't buying what Aaron was selling.

"Rick, if I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know, light the barn on fire while you slept, pick you off as you ran out the only exit. You can trust me," the bound man assured.

"I'll check out the cars," Michonne offered.

"There _aren't_ any cars," Rick dismissed.

"There's only one way to find out."

"We don't need to find out."

"We _do,_" she insisted. "You know what you know and you're sure of it, but I'm not."

Maggie piped up. "Me neither."

Rick shook his head. He didn't like any of this, at all. "Your way is dangerous, mine isn't."

"Passing up someplace where we can _live_? Where _Judith_ can live? _That's_ pretty dangerous." Michonne implored, "We _need_ to find out what this is. We can handle ourselves. So that's what we're gonna do."

"Then I will, too," Glenn offered, as Rick looked over at him. "I'll go."

Rick still didn't like this but, if they were gonna do it anyway, he wanted them safe. Turning around, he looked at the ginger haired man. "Abraham."

"Yeah," Abraham answered, hosting his gun. "I'll walk with them."

Rick nodded at Rosita. "Rosita?"

"Okay," she agreed.

Rick, then, walked up to Glenn. "If there's trouble, you got enough firepower?"

"We got what we got," replied Glenn.

Rick pulled out Aaron's gun and handed it to the younger man as Daryl lifted Aaron to his feet and carried him over to a post. "The walkies are out of juice," Rick continued. "If you're not back in sixty minutes, we'll come," he looked around at the others preparing to leave, "Which might be just what they want. If we're all in here, we're a target."

Daryl made a spinning hand gesture above his head. "I've got the area covered."

"Alright, groups of two, find somewhere safe within eyeshot."

Everyone left, even Carl. Rick looked toward the back of the barn, where Georgie remained, holding Judith.

"Do you want me to take Judith? I mean, I'd rather stay plus I think she's safer here with you near."

Rick moved closer to her, about to say no, for her to leave and take Judith, but he didn't think it was safe out there either, and if something happened inside the barn, Georgie could be there to get out with his daughter. "Yeah, stay. Just keep a distance for now."

Georgie nodded and pulled up an old crate to sit on, resting Judith in her lap while Rick went to the barn doors and shut them, but peered outside slightly to look after the others.

"When the world was still the world, I worked for an NGO," Aaron spoke. "Our mission was to deliver medicine and food to the Niger River Delta. Bad people pointed guns in my face every other week. You're not bad people. You're not going to kill us. And we are _definitely_ not going to kill you."

"Just because we're good people doesn't mean we won't kill you," Rick remarked, still peering through the crack in the door. "If the five of them aren't back in an hour I'll put a knife in the base of your skull."

Shutting the door then, Rick stalked over to where Georgie was as Judith started crying.

"She's hungry," Georgie whispered, looking up at him.

Rick sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "Do we have any of that powdered milk left?"

Georgie shook her head. "We used it up yesterday morning before the cars broke down. There's only water. She needs more than that, though."

"Alright, okay…" He nodded, considering any option.

Rick spotted some acorns on the ground and grabbed small bowl. Crouching down on to the floor and using the butt of his Colt, he attempted to crack the shells open. He remembered how Georgie had mentioned making that pecan butter stuff, that was more or less grainy and syrupy, but it had done the trick. If he could pound the nuts to something of a powder and add some water to it, that could be something. However, the task was incredibly harder it seemed and Judith continued to wail.

"Shh, shh, sweetie, it's alright," Georgie cooed, as she noticed Rick's shoulders tensing from stress. Gently, she reached a hand out and touched his left shoulder blade and it seemed to help a little, that tiny gesture.

"You _did_ see the jar of applesauce in my bag, right? This isn't a trick." Rick looked up at Aaron briefly. "This isn't about trying to make you like me. It's self-preservation. Because if the roamers hear her and come this way, I know I'll be the first to go."

"Rick," Georgie muttered. She didn't say it, but the tone in which she said his name suggested that maybe this was the moment they should trust Aaron. Judith kept on crying, so Georgie bounced her gently on her knee. "Shh, shh. Alright, come here, come here. Shh," she murmured quietly, pulling Judith closer as she saw Aaron look imploringly at her. "_Rick_."

He turned and stared at her, getting up to his feet. It looked as if he was caving and was going to give Judith the applesauce. Opening the jar up, he scooped out a spoonful and instead walked over to Aaron with it. Georgie was curious to know how this would play out and she could only do so by standing up as well and following behind Rick slightly as he held the spoon out for Aaron to taste test the applesauce.

"You think I'm trying to poison your baby daughter?" Aaron asked, almost offended. "I'm tied up and you've already expressed a willingness to stab me in the head. How would cruelly killing your daughter in front of you in any way help the situation?"

Georgie stepped closer, taking a sort of Mama Bear stance. "Maybe she _doesn't_ die. Maybe she gets _sick_. Maybe you're the only one that can help her and we just lose," she commented as Rick crouched down to Aaron's level.

"I am the only one who can help her because I have applesauce and we all win." He backed his head away as Rick forced the spoon toward his face, looking between the pair. "I hate applesauce. My mom used to make me eat foods I didn't like to make me more manly; salmon patties, applesauce, and onions. She was a very confused woman who tried her damnedest. I just brought the jar to show that we have apple trees nearby."

"Like you said, you'll be the first to go," Rick reiterated as Aaron caved, wincing as he swallowed the spoonful Rick shoved in his mouth.

"Was that so hard?" Georgie questioned as Rick tasted what was left on the spoon.

Rick stood up and nodded at Georgie, ushering her back toward where the jar was and handing the spoon to her. "It's good," he assured her in a whisper as Judith continued to wail, her little tummy churning with hunger.

Aaron frowned, looking over at them. "The community is big enough. We can find a place for you to live where even when she cries, no one, nothing can hear it outside the walls."

Georgie moved the crate she'd been sitting on over toward the table and sat back down before proceeding to spoon out the applesauce and feed Judith, who gobbled it up like rapid-fire. As the little girl ceased crying and made the faintest of humming noises from being happy to eat, Georgie pressed her lips to the child's head and looked up at Rick.

He looked down at his watch. "You got forty-three minutes," he said to Aaron.

* * *

A short while later, the group had reconvened at the barn, bringing back Aaron's two vehicles, a white Cadillac and an RV, along with a supply of canned goods they'd salvaged from the vehicles. Rick was crouched down, holding one of the cans in his hands as the others stood around. After a moment of thought, Rick got up and turned to face Aaron.

"This," he held up the can, but meant the entire supply, "this is ours now."

Aaron nodded. "There's more than enough."

"It's ours whether or not we go to your camp."

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't we go?" Carl asked, somewhat flabbergasted.

Michonne looked around at everyone. "If he were lying or if he wanted to hurt us," she answered. "But he isn't, and he doesn't. We need this. So we're going, all of us. Somebody say something if they feel differently."

Georgie pressed her lips firmly together. Despite the situation, she really wanted to smile or laugh a little. To have someone other than Rick taking charge for once is something she knew Rick needed, whether he was willing to admit it or not. He needed someone else to take the reins once in a while. She just hoped he could see it that way. She could see he was still uneasy, given what she knew of the groups different experiences with communities in the past offering hope for safety.

"I don't know, man. This barn smells like horse shit," Daryl quipped.

Still focusing mostly on Rick, Georgie saw that way he was shaking. It was faint but she noticed. "Yeah," he gave in, tilting his head slightly. "We're going."

Michonne smiled. She had been the main champion for all of them to find a community and so it went without saying how happy she was that Rick acquiesced to what the majority seemed to want. The others believed everything Aaron had told them, and he had given no reason to no longer doubt him. Rick was beginning to see that he couldn't fight city hall, even if he did have his own reservations still.

"So where _are_ we going?" Rick asked, turning back to Aaron. "Where's your camp?"

"Well, every time I've done this, I've been behind the wheel driving recruits back.I believe you're good people. I've bet my life on it." Aaron looked at Michonne as she approached him. "I'm just not ready to bet my friends' lives just yet."

"You're not driving," she informed while Rick got out their map and laid it upon the ground. "So if you want to get home, you'll have to tell us how."

Aaron sighed. "Go north on Route 16."

"And then?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

Rick just stared for a moment, his jaw firm. "We'll take _23_ north. You'll give us directions from there," he decided.

"That's—" Aaron seemed panicked. "I don't know how else to say it—that's a _bad_ idea. We've cleared 16. It'll be faster."

"We'll take _23_," Rick repeated, laying the law more or less. "We leave at sundown."

"We're doing this at _night_?" Sasha questioned.

Rick looked back at the group. "Look, I know it's dangerous. But it's better than riding up to the gates during the day. If it isn't safe, we need to get gone before they know we're there."

"No one is going to hurt you," Aaron guaranteed. "You're trying to protect your group, but you're putting them in danger."

Turning back to the other man, Rick grabbed onto the wooden framework beside him. "Tell me where the camp is, we'll leave right now." When Aaron would divulge the information, Rick turned back to his people. "It's going to be a long night," he said, standing up. "Eat. Get some rest if you can."

With that, Rick stalked off toward the barn doors and went outside. A moment later, Michonne followed him, while the rest of the group turned back to the food, practically ignoring Aaron in the process. Having already fed Judith and also changing her diaper, Georgie set the girl down in a crate lined with her blanket, and decided to wait to eat as the others dove in first.

Walking over to Aaron with a bottle of water, she uncapped it and knelt down. "Thirsty?"

He shook his head. "No, thank you. But I appreciate the hospitality," he quipped, giving a tug at his bound hands.

"We've had bad experiences with very bad people," she replied. "You'll have to forgive us, but we prefer to be safe rather than sorry."

"Driving the 23 at night is being sorry." Aaron leaned in toward her. "Is there a way you can make him see that—"

"Rick has yet to give me reason not to trust his judgement. So, if he feels better not traveling your route, your way, then so do I," Georgie spoke. "Where he goes, I go, we go."

Aaron wasn't going to convince anyone, it would seem, so he resigned himself to drop the subject. Instead, he broached a different subject for the sake of passing the time until someone was kind enough to untie his hand and they hit the road. "Can I ask a question?"

"I don't know, _can_ you?" Georgie eyed him and took a swig from the water bottle.

"How long have you and Rick been married?"

A chuckle burst out of Georgie's mouth and she almost choked on the water. "Wait—what?"

"I'm sorry. Did I misread the situation?" Aaron seemed a little embarrassed. "I just thought, from what I've been able to see of your group from afar and up close, the way the two of you are with each other, and how you've worked in tandem to care for Judith, I just assumed…"

Georgie shook her head. "We're not married; we just…care a _lot_ about each other."

"Oh," Aaron nodded. "I had noticed the wedding rings on your fingers, too. That added to my confusion, I guess."

Looking down at her left hand, Georgie saw her ring. "No, we were married to other people."

To be honest, she didn't even realize she still wore the ring. For some reason she thought she had removed it long ago and tossed it away. Considering that notion, Georgie wondered if she shouldn't just do that now. Not, immediately 'now', right there in front of Aaron, but soon. The day she had found her husband's truck, two weeks after abandoning her and their daughter, she considered herself a widow and that's how she had presented herself to her previous groups.

Just as she got back up to her feet, Michonne sauntered back into the barn and went to grab something to eat among the others, when Rick followed suit.

His eyes immediately fell upon Georgie and he gave a polite nod down to Aaron, but made no move to untie the man just yet. Instead, Rick grabbed two canned goods and a bottle of water and then walked back over to Georgie, giving her a tap to her elbow with his fingers.

"C'mon," he gestured back toward the barn doors with a tilt of his head.

"Where are we going?"

"Just c'mon."

Without giving Aaron, the conversation she had with him or her ring a second thought, Georgie followed Rick out of the barn and over to the RV. He opened the door and held it open, letting her step up into it first.

"When all this first happened, the outbreak," he began to say as he gestured to the RV's kitchen table for her to sit and then pulled open the drawers near the sink, "I woke up in a hospital, dehydrated and weak. I'd been shot on the job, about two months earlier, just before the outbreak spread. I was in a coma and when I woke up I found the world like this. I couldn't find my family, everything was destroyed, and nothing worked anymore. I was so confused and lost." Rick to a seat at the table opposite from her and pulled out a pocket knife, opening up the cans, which were both S'Getti Rings. "I met a guy named Morgan and his son Duane, who explained things to me; how the world worked now. Once I was armed with enough know-how and weapons, I made my way to Atlanta. Then I ran out of gas, so I got a horse instead."

Georgie smirked as he passed one of the cans to her and a spoon he had found in the drawer. He didn't need to offer her the water bottle since he had seen she had her own.

"You rode a horse into Atlanta?" she questioned with a chuckle.

Rick nodded at the memory and smirked as well. "Yeah."

"I can't imagine that went well."

"It didn't. I got swarmed by walkers. I fell off the horse and tried getting away. Walkers ripped that horse to shreds."

"_Obviously_ you got away."

"I crawled into a tank, and then that's when I met Glenn. He radioed me inside there, helped get me to safety. Long story short, I went back with him to the camp outside the city his people were staying at, and as luck would have it Carl and my wife Lori were there, along with my best friend Shane. Carol was there, too, but that was when her daughter Sophia and her asshole husband Ed were still alive," Rick narrated. "I think it was the next day when I met Daryl. He was part of the camp but had been off hunting. He was a different man then in the beginning. A little more disgruntled, I s'pose."

They both smiled at each other.

"We were _all_ different in the beginning. We've _all_ changed," she said.

Rick leaned back, taking a bite of cold S'Getti Rings with his own spoon and nodding at her statement. "One of the men at that first camp, he had an RV like this. He used to sit on top with a lawn chair and an umbrella, keeping watch with his shotgun."

"What was his name?"

"Dale." Rick sighed, staring into the can for what seemed like forever. "_You_ know the man I am _now_," he continued. "You _don't_ know who I _was_ or all the details of how I got to be _this_ man, no different than I don't know the woman you _were_, aside from stories. And that's all they are: stories. We hear 'em, we can react to 'em, but we can never experience firsthand what the other person experienced."

Georgie stopped eating, setting her spoon in her can and just waiting to see where Rick's train of thought was leading this conversation.

"You mean something to me, Georgie," he admitted. He was still looking down at his can, almost as if he couldn't bring himself to look up at her just yet. "I feel myself going to these darker places that I'd rather not go, and then I feel your hand or I see you standing there and I feel calm." When he lifted his eyes, he was staring across the table at her, holding her gaze. "_You_ do that." Reaching his hand out to her, he linked his fingers with hers. "It's been my job to make sure everyone else is safe, and then here you come into my life and suddenly I feel like _I_ can be safe, too. And I know that sounds like something off a Hallmark card, but it's true, and I know I keep telling you all these little things I'm so grateful for you doing, but I mean it. I just…"

"You don't have to say anything else."

"No—no, I do." He looked over at the door, as if expecting someone to walk in. "I just worry that when we go to Aaron's community that I won't know what to do if it really _is_ this safe haven. What—what do I do then when I don't have to protect everyone anymore? Who do I become?"

Georgie smiled at him like she would a nervous child and reached her other hand out to clasp over both of theirs. "The man you _used_ to be?" she suggested him. "I wouldn't mind meeting him. Although, I _am_ biased towards this one."

Rick's gaze softened and he leaned forward. "You know, when I brought you in here, I hadn't meant to go off on a tangent about my past and my fears. I was actually meaning for this to be like a date of sorts." He chuckled a little at himself. "I think the RV, in general, just reminded me of the beginning and I just went with it."

"Wait—back up," Georgie laughed. "This is our first date?"

"Yeah, what do you think of it so far?" he joked. "You enjoying yourself? I was thinking a round of miniature golf afterward."

A bright smile plastered itself on Georgie's face as a heartier laugh escaped her lips. "Will there be dancing, too? I miss dancing."

Rick pointed at her. "Shit, we haven't done that in a few days." Georgie seemed confused at first, so he asked, "What do you miss from the old world, aside from dancing, that is?"

Georgie leaned back and tried thinking up an answer she hadn't already used before. After a moment, a mischievous thought appeared in her head and she stifled her grin as best as possible. "I don't know that I should say. I mean, this _is_ only the first date, after all."

"Try me."

Shifting in her seat, Georgie stood up and shoved Rick in the shoulder so he would move over a bit. When he did, she sat back down and turned to face him before leaning in to whisper her answer in his ear. As soon as she pulled back to look at him, she could see his face flush and his bright blue eyes begin to darken.

"What do _you_ miss?" she continued before he could properly react.

With a small smile toying at his lips, Rick leaned in and whispered the same thing in her ear that she had just whispered in his.

Georgie made a face. "That's not how the game goes," she chuckled. "You're supposed to say something _different_."

"It _is_ different," he insisted. "It'll be with _you_."

A knocked came to the RV door, cutting into their mood, yet again.

Sighing, Rick looked over at the door. "What's up?" he called out, rubbing his mouth and beard with his hand.

"It's Carol. A few of us were wondering if you're okay with us untying Aaron's hands."

"Uh, yeah," Rick agreed. "There's plenty of you in there to keep an eye on if him he tries anything."

"Alright." It was quiet for a moment and the pair didn't hear Carol. They also didn't see if she'd headed back to the barn as they turned to glance out of the windows. "One more thing." Their attention turned immediately back toward the door. "Don't make a mess in there, you two. Most of us have to travel in this thing tonight."

They finally heard Carol stepping away by the crunch of leaves under her feet and a moment later they could see her out the window heading back into the barn.

Georgie smirked as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table and then her face her hands. Casually, she turned her face toward Rick and raised an eyebrow. "Do you think we'll ever _not_ be interrupted?" she asked him. "I know it's hard when we're traveling on the road as a group of sixteen, but it seems like no matter what we're doing or _not_ doing we're stopping before we ever get started."

Rick shrugged and frowned. "Maybe we'll get a chance at actual privacy in Aaron's community."

"Nothing should happen now, anyway," Georgie added. Then in a more teasing tone, "I mean, this is only our first date after all. I'm not one of those fast girls."

He snickered and nodded. "Let's just see what happens with Aaron's community. If it pans out, we'll all try and settle in, hopefully clean ourselves up and feel human again. Then we'll see where our second date leads us if the rest of the group can leave us alone for more than five minutes," he remarked as he put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his side. Turning his head slightly, his beard brushed her temple before his lips did. "I, especially, could do with a hot shower first."

"You don't smell _that_ bad," she chuckled, reaching her arm across them both and tugging slightly at his dirty brown shirt he'd claimed back in Greensboro.

"Liar."

Georgie merely smiled in response. Reaching out for her can of S'Getti rings, she pulled out the spoon and continued to eat while leaning more into his side. Rick rested his head against hers and also went back to eating his own cold, canned pasta.

"Pretty nice first date," Georgie finally said.

"Yeah," Rick nodded.


	15. Miles To Go

"_The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep." _

_― _Robert Frost

* * *

Hours later, along a dark, Route 23, the Cadillac and RV traveled at a decent pace. Inside the Cadillac, Glenn was driving while Rick sat shotgun. Behind them were Michonne and Georgie, with Aaron in-between both women, who had his hands once again bound behind him for the drive.

Georgie was staring at the back of Rick's head at how the bottom of his hair curled and was growing just as full as his beard with each passing day. She was trying not to smile at how a man could be so incredibly dirty and still be sexy at the same. Not that she was one to talk, of course. Everyone was dirty and feeling gross. But there was something about the primal, wild and dirty look Rick had going on that attracted her to him like a fat kid and cake. She wondered what he would look like without the bear and shorter hair, wearing clean slacks and a dress shirt, but made her sad in a way because she really was digging his beard and hair. She did know what he looked like clean, though, from back at Greensboro after they'd all made use of the showers, albeit cold ones. The idea of him being clean _shaven_ was another thing entirely.

The click of the glove compartment opening, snapped Georgie out of her daydreaming and she watched as Rick sat hunched forward slightly. The three of them in the backseat leaned toward the front seat and saw Rick was looking through a stack of license plates.

Aaron smiled. "Um, I'm trying to collect all fifty states. Put them all on a wall in my house."

"You have your own house?" Georgie asked.

"Mmhmm," Aaron confirmed with a nod. He then gestured to his envelope of pictures that was sticking out of his backpack. "See for yourself."

As Georgie flipped through the pictures, she noticed something missing, so she turned back to Aaron. "Why don't you have any pictures of your people?"

"Oh, I took a picture of the whole group, but I didn't get the exposure right. When I tried to develop it later, it just—"

Michonne leaned around Aaron to glance at Georgie, and then up at Aaron before looking forward at Rick. "Did you ask him the questions?"

"No," Rick replied quietly.

Michonne looked Aaron in the eye. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

Aaron's confused tone sounded familiar to her. It was the same one she'd had when Carol had asked her the first of the same three questions; the term 'walkers' had been new to her, where now it was commonplace. She recalled, back in the barn, how Aaron had referred to the walkers as 'roamers.' For Georgie it had been 'ramblers.'

"How many?" Michonne pressed.

Aaron caught on after a moment. "I don't know. A lot."

"How many people?"

"Two."

"Why?"

"Because they tried to kill _me_."

As Rick lifted up a radio, Glenn looked back at Aaron angrily. "You were listening to us?"

"I already said I was watching you. Yes, I was listening."

"It means his people could have one, too," Rick said, getting anxious and angry. "They could've heard our plan. This isn't safe."

"Shit!" Glenn exclaimed as he slammed on the breaks.

Rick whipped back forward and the three in the backseat braced themselves as the Cadillac skidded across the road into an oncoming herd of walkers. Blood and guts painted the windshield and obstructing the view in the process as the younger man struggled to maintain the wheel.

"Glenn!" Rick shouted, looking behind them toward where the RV was supposed to be behind them, but with the darkness and all the walkers it was too hard to see.

"They were right behind us. They would have hit us. Now they can get out."

More walkers smashed into the car, spraying their blood and other rotting, bodily juices over the side windows. The entire ordeal seemed never-ending, as if all the walkers in the world had suddenly appeared on that very road all at once.

"Glenn! Wipers!" Georgie barked, gripping the back of Rick's seat.

"They're not working," he shouted back, irritably, before eventually bringing the car to a spinning, screeching halt.

They sat there, breathing heavily for a few seconds, and then all, except Aaron, jumped out of the car to the sounds of walkers snarling, in order to look for the RV. Georgie turned back toward the car and winced. She could barely tell that it was white by the way it was covered in so much blood and guts.

"I don't see 'em," Rick announced, referring to the rest of the group in the RV, as he looked up the direction of the road they had just come down.

Glenn climbed atop the car to stand on the roof. "No, they're gone. They got away," he assured before climbing back down with the help of Georgie as she spotted him in case he slipped in the blood.

"Alright, we'll circle back and find them. Let's go."

Before Glenn got back into the car, he used his arms to wipe the blood and guts of the windshield as best as he could. Rick, meanwhile, was trying to study their map and figure what to do next.

"They're okay?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah," Michonne replied.

"All right, we can take a left a couple of miles up 23. Jefferson Avenue," Rick rattled off, his nerves a bit frazzled, to say the least.

"Jefferson Avenue," Glenn echoed with a nod of his head as he climbed back into the car and shut his door.

"We got to get out of here," Aaron urged.

The engine sputtered as soon as Glenn turned on the ignition, much to everyone's displeasure.

"Come on," Rick pleaded, more toward with the vehicle than at Glenn as the snarling of the walkers got closer. "Come on."

"We got to get out of here," Aaron repeated.

"Come on. Come on."

"Let me see what I can see," Michonne suggested, hopping out of the car.

"They're coming right for us," Aaron whined.

"Yeah, we _know_," Georgie snapped as she jumped out of the car as well. She wasn't about to leave Michonne all alone out there in case she needed back-up.

Running around to the front of the car, she saw a lot of the issue was body parts and guts caught in the grill and inside the slightly ajar hood. Grabbing an arm here and an intestine there, Georgie and Michonne worked hastily side by side while throwing cautious glances over their shoulders at the mass of walkers stumbling toward them.

Then suddenly, a red light in the distance shot up into the sky; the light from a flare gun gone off.

Georgie looked briefly at Michonne before running around to the side of the vehicle Michonne had been sitting.

"Did you see that?" she asked, just as she pulled the back door open and Aaron kicked at it from the inside.

The force of it hit her in the stomach and knocked her back a couple of feet. Her ass broke her fall and she skidded to a stop on the pavement and then tumbled back into the dirt of the side of the road along with some walker blood to boot.

"Georgie!" Rick shouted.

"I'm okay."

"Michonne, leave him!" he yelled after the other woman who was starting to chase Aaron into the woods. "We need to find our people."

"They saw that flare. They'll think we shot it. This is how we find them," Michonne insisted, heading off.

Rick pulled out his machete and ran around the front of the car and pulled a wheezing Georgie up to her feet as she unsheathed her knife. With Glenn behind them, the pair followed after Michonne, leaving behind the car. Walkers were following them, too, and being on foot, in the dark, made life just that much harder.

Walkers snarled and ambled closer. The four of them aimed their weapons; shooting, stabbing or slicing. They were getting swarmed on all sides, keeping their backs to one another and it was starting to feel like this was the end; that this was when they were going to finally die. Georgie panicked, wondering if she had enough bullets left in her gun to shoot the others and herself if they all got bit and were about to be torn apart.

"Where's Glenn?" Rick shouted.

"He was just here," Georgie replied, sinking her blade into the temple of an offending walker and then whipping around to see that it was just her, Michonne and Rick. Looking to her left, she pointed. "C'mon, this way."

There was a small window of opportunity for the three of them to head off into a section of the woods away from the walkers and they took it. However, the walkers, of course, followed after them.

"Glenn!" Rick shouted for their friend. "He's got to be somewhere around here."

"Glenn!" Michonne and Georgie echoed.

Rick fired a couple more shots before only clicking happened, meaning he was out of bullets, so he pulled out Aaron's flare gun and shot it into the eye socket of an approaching walker. The flame sparked and shined bright with a reddish pink glow inside the walker's skull, before dropping it dead to the ground. The fizzing light from the flare drew the other walkers nearer to the trio because the light revealed them more to the herd.

Georgie tried her gun as well and, sure as shit, she too was out of ammo just like Rick. She didn't have time or her nerves were too addled for her to stick the empty weapon back into her jeans so she simply let it drop to the ground as she was forced to rely solely on her hunting knife, the same as Michonne relied on her katana and Rick on his machete. However, the other two had the added benefit of longer blades which allowed them to keep them at a safer distance and also easily slice into the skulls of walkers whereas Georgie had to be more one on one.

As they labored on, panting heavily, a succession of gunshots rang out and took down the immediate onslaught of walkers.

The trio whipped around to look behind them where Glenn and Aaron stood, holding guns.

Aaron held his hands up as a sort of surrender. "If you really want to tie me up again, that's fine, but hurry up," he said, dropping his gun.

"No time," Rick replied, picking up the weapon and then pointed away from them. "We're going that way."

Running through the woods, they headed in the opposite direction they had originally come from and eventually made it onto a different road, which was labeled with a highway marker stating it was Route 16, the very route Aaron had claimed was clear earlier in the day.

Georgie didn't say it out loud, but she also knew she couldn't be the only one thinking it; that they should've just trusted Aaron by taking 16 instead of 23. They wouldn't have had to go through all that trouble they just went through. But, she knew Rick's heart had been in the right place when he made the decision to go against Aaron's directions, and that's why she kept her mouth shut.

"Where are they?" Rick questioned, getting in Aaron's face, after looking in both directions on the empty road.

"I don't know," Aaron replied.

"If this is a trap to get us back where you want us, your people are going to die tonight." Turning away, Rick began to stalk up the road toward a water tower that was just barely visible through the trees. "The flare was towards the water tower.

Soon enough they found their way to some buildings where the sound of a whistle echoed off the walls. Quickening their pace, Rick led them into an alley where the RV was parked and that had a faint glow coming from some unknown light source within the building to their right. He then mimicked the whistle and added to it, just as Daryl stepped out into the light with his crossbow in hand and waved them down.

A door opened up and out came Maggie and Carl, running up into the arms of Glenn and Rick, respectively.

"Dad!" Carl exclaimed, happily.

"Your sister okay?" Rick asked, hugging his son tight, which brought a pleased smile to Georgie's face as she watched the reunion.

"Yeah. Yeah, we're fine."

"Eric? Eric?" Aaron began to call out, looking around at the group piling out into the alley. "Eric?"

"In here," came an unfamiliar voice from inside the building.

"Eric!" Aaron shouted, bursting through the door.

Georgie was approached by Carol and both women hugged and then Carol moved on to hug Rick who was distracted by Aaron running off inside. Georgie, having only heard Carl say Judith was okay, but not actually _seeing_ Judith herself, followed Rick into the building. Together they first came upon the little girl sitting in cardboard box with her blanket draped around her.

Judith looked up when she saw the two adults approach her and gurgled as a little smile appeared on her lips. Instinctively, Georgie swooped Judith up into her arms and held her close. Rick stepped up to them both and placed a hand on his daughter's back while kissing the top of her head before looking over it at Georgie.

"You good?" he asked her, after everything they had just gone through. He placed a hand on her stomach, where the door had hit her and when she nodded she was fine, Rick let out a sigh and placed his other hand on her the side of her face and pulled her in for a brief kiss. "Good."

The sound of Aaron and 'Eric' talking in another room grabbed their attention and they walked cautiously to it. Stepping out of the shadows, they saw Aaron hunched beside a man who had his ankle propped up with a makeshift split.

"Hi," the injured man greeted them with a smile. "I'm Eric."

"Rick," Rick answered, quietly.

"Georgie," she offered up, still holding Judith close.

"It's okay," Eric said to Aaron, who stood up and walked out of the room to where the rest of the group had reconvened and were talking amongst themselves.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Everyone," Aaron was saying, getting all of their attention, while Rick and Georgie remained in the dark of the doorway, just listening. "Thank you. You saved Eric. I owe you. All of you. And I will make sure that debt is paid in full when we get to our community. When we get to Alexandria."

Georgie smirked. It was actually quite nice to have a name to go with the community.

"Now, I'm not sure about you, but I'd rather not do any more driving tonight," Aaron continued with a laugh, and everyone else seemed to smile in response. "Maybe we can hit the road tomorrow morning."

"That sounds fine," Rick agreed, stepping a little more from out of the shadows. "But if we're staying here for the night, you're sleeping over there." He pointed to a corner beyond the others.

"You really think we gotta do that?" Maggie questioned.

"It's the safe play," he replied, eyeing Aaron. "We don't know you."

"The only way you're gonna stop me from being with him right now is by shooting me," Aaron dared.

As he stepped defiantly forward, Glenn held a hand out.

"Whoa," Glenn spoke. He leaned in toward Rick to whisper. Georgie was only privy to what the younger man was saying because she was still standing behind Rick with Judith. "Rick, he told us where the camp is. And he really _was_ only travelling with one other person." Both men eyed each other.

"They're both unarmed. One of them's got a broken ankle," Georgie gave her two cents in a hushed voice.

Glenn looked at her; a silent thanks sent her way for agreeing with his train of thought before looking back at Rick. "I want us to be safe, too," Glenn assured. "I can't give up everything else."

"I know what I said, but it does matter," Georgie added, referring to their conversation at the Shirewilt Estates. She placed a hand on the back of Rick's arm to help convince him.

Rick looked between Glenn and Georgie and nodded slightly. "Alright."

Stepping aside, Rick allowed Aaron to head back into the other room to be with Eric and the rest of the group settled into their own areas, chatting once more about the prospects of the Alexandria, and most of them seemed genuinely happy and excited by it. Rick, however, still seemed on the fence, but was allowing the majority to dictate for a while.

* * *

Sometime later, Rick was seated on the floor near the entrance to the other room. Most everyone was asleep, especially his children. Carl was curled up a few feet away near Daryl, who sat awake as well, while Judith lay in Rick's arms. On his left, sat Georgie; who had her left hand holding her stomach and the index finger from right hand was being held by a sleeping Judith. Rick and Georgie leaned their heads against each other and listened to the near silence around them.

Daryl and Rick locked eyes for a moment and Daryl gave a nod in Rick's direction, along with a faint but sly smile. Rick was aware it was in reference to Georgie who he felt very at home with, and his friend, the archer, seemed approving, which meant a great deal.

Casting a glance down at her left hand, Rick frowned. "You sure you're okay?" he questioned again in a whisper.

Georgie turned her head toward him slightly. "Mentally, yeah."

"How bad is it?" he asked, concerned.

"It's nothing. Just a little bruising."

Her dismissive tone made him more concerned. Rick turned his head completely to stare at her, reaching a hand out to lift the bottom of her shirt. In the minimal light of the dark room, he could see the discoloration forming on the skin of her abdomen, and feared that the door kicked against her by Aaron had caused some internal bleeding they were unaware of. And thinking back to the chaos of getting away from the walkers in the woods, another concern arose.

"Were you bit at all back there?" His nostrils flared and his breath shook a little.

Georgie reached her left arm around her chest and placed her hand on Rick's shoulder. "No, I wasn't bit," she assured. "If I had been, I would've shot myself in the head by now."

Rick scowled. "Don't joke about that."

"I'm not joking," she insisted. "If I get bit, and if it's in a place that can't be amputated and that I can survive from, then I want a bullet in my brainpan. I don't want to go through the suffering that follows getting infected. I don't want the slow death of Bob or Tyreese. I don't even want to know it's about to happen."

Rick was clenching his jaw tight and blinked a few times, a little more rapidly than normal, so Georgie gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Well, that ain't gonna happen. Not as long as I'm drawing breath."

"Okay, that's great," Georgie smirked. "But if you're not there to save me like some knight in shining armor, that's what I want done. Carol knows it. Our first night together, over a month ago, after you first kicked her out of this group, she and I agreed to kill the other if we got bit. Of course, that's when we initially thought it was going to be just the two of us on the road; two brave ass women facing the world alone."

Rick couldn't get into Georgie's lighthearted demeanor. "Seriously, that ain't gonna happen," he insisted. "If I can't be there to keep you or my kids safe, then I will have Daryl do it, or Glenn or Abraham, or Carol. Anyone." He held her gaze. "I will not and cannot go to my own grave worrying that all your days will be drastically cut short."

"Maybe we'll all die at the same time," she egged.

Rick gave her a stern look. "Stop it."

Pursing her lips together and smiling sheepishly at him, Georgie reached her hand off his shoulder and up to his bearded chin, giving it a soothing stroke. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm not trying to upset you."

Sighing, Rick gave a nod of his head and then let his shoulders sag slightly. "I know you ain't."

Glancing briefly back over at Daryl, Rick gave the other man a nod and then gestured down at Judith. Daryl got up to his knees and leaned forward as Rick lifted his daughter up and passed her over to the archer to hold for a while. Georgie looked curiously at Rick who climbed up to his feet and then held a hand out to her.

She just hesitated, confused about what was on his mind.

"C'mon."

"Where we going?" she asked, as he helped her to her feet, raising an eyebrow. "Second date already?"

He didn't respond. He simply led her into the room where Aaron and Eric were. The candlelight was still glowing and both men were lying side by side, still awake and just talking quietly amongst themselves. They turned their heads toward the pairs stepping out of the shadows.

"Is something wrong, Rick?" Aaron wondered.

Rick nodded. With his hand up against Georgie's lower back, he pushed her gently forward into the light and then lifted her shirt enough for both men to see her bruising. He pointed accusingly at Aaron. "You did this."

"Rick—" she began to chastise.

"No," he cut her off, maintaining his gaze on both men, but mostly Aaron.

"I am _so_ sorry about that," Aaron implored, genuinely apologetic. "It was an accident."

"It's okay," Georgie said to him.

"It's _not_ okay." Rick was sure as stubborn as they came.

"And _I_ said it _is_," she threw back, taking a step away from him so he would look her in the eye and know she was just as serious as he was.

Rick stared at her for a few moments, and it was as if they were dueling with their eyes to see who would back down first. His jaw clenched and unclenched a few times and his fists balled and unballed. Shaking his head, Rick turned away and back toward Aaron and Eric.

"Maybe she's okay, maybe she's not. She could have internal bleeding."

"I _don't_," Georgie stressed.

Rick whipped his face back toward her. "You don't know that for sure."

"And you don't know for sure that I _do_."

"Well, I'm not taking that risk, Georgie," he glared at her, but in a caring way. "I ain't gonna be helpless again and lose another woman I love."

Pulling her face back, the weight of what he just said hit her like a ton of bricks and her heart somersaulted while she found her breath caught in her throat. She could feel Aaron and Eric's awkward gazes and sense they probably felt as if they were the ones who intruded into the room, into a private conversation, and not the other way around.

Rick realized what he said, too, and his gaze softened. Licking his chapped lips, he let his eyes slowly drift away from her face and back toward the men. "Can either of you just humor me. Just…is there anything or any_one_ in Alexandria that can help make sure her injury isn't serious?"

Georgie found herself looking over at Aaron and Eric, trying to keep a calm and collected demeanor and pass off Rick's Freudian slip as no big deal.

Eric smiled sweetly at the pair. "It's alright, Rick. We understand your concern, and Aaron _is_ very sorry for doing harm to your wife."

Aaron whispered something in Eric's ear just as Rick began to say, "She's not—" but then allowed himself to not finish the sentence.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Eric remarked. "Honest mistake, I guess."

"Point is," Aaron continued. "I _am_ very sorry about earlier tonight, and you don't have to worry. We _do_ have a doctor back in Alexandria who has been with us a couple of months and who we've both seen do some _amazing_ things."

"He can take a look at Georgie at our infirmary as soon as we get home," Eric informed with a reassuring smile.

Rick nodded his head. "Thank—thank you," he replied meekly. "That's all I ask."

Aaron and Eric simply nodded back in response, as Georgie reached her hand out to Rick.

"C'mon," she urged. "Let's leave these two to get some sleep and do the same ourselves, okay?"

Looking her back in the eye, Rick nodded. "Alright."

"G'night," Georgie wished, smiling politely to the couple on the floor.

Aaron and Eric smiled back and waved goodnight as she dragged Rick out of the room. However, he stopped her once they reached the shadows of the doorway.

Throwing a look toward the door that led back to the alleyway, Rick gestured over to Daryl who had spotted the pair returning.

"What's up?" Daryl inquired, quietly, cradling a still sleeping Judith.

"Can you keep an eye on this one, in here, for tonight?"

Daryl nodded but was curious. "Anything wrong, brother?"

Rick paused and shook his head. "No, it's just…a little cramped in here and Georgie got hurt earlier so I want to just make sure she has a more comfortable place to sleep for the night."

"That code for sex?" Daryl snickered.

"I will not hesitate to end you," Rick whispered with a smile creeping onto his stern face as he leaned in closer to Daryl's. "And no, it's not code for sex."

Reaching a hand out, he flicked his thumb and index finger at Daryl's ear. The other man winced slightly in response as Rick took Georgie and led her out into the alley, making sure the door to the building was closed behind them.

Silently, the pair walked over to the RV, while looking to their left and right to make sure the coast was clear; that there were no walkers around. Once inside the RV, Rick gestured to the back where the bedroom was and for Georgie to lie down on one of the twin beds.

When she sat, she looked up at him expectantly. "What happens now?"

Rick undid his belt and pulled it off, which caused Georgie to raise her eyebrows. When he saw her look he chuckled a little. He pointed to the machete which was sheathed only through a loop hanging off the belt.

"It's just so I won't accidentally cut you while we sleep," he informed.

Setting the belt with his machete and his empty Colt in its holster on the other bed, Rick leaned down to do the same to her, since her belt held her sheathed hunting knife and _her_ empty gun. Tossing her things down with his, he casually kicked off his boots and helped her get hers off as well.

"What happens now?" she repeated.

"More than five minutes of uninterrupted privacy," he replied with a smile.

"_Oh_?"

Rick tutted. "Get your mind out of the gutter, woman."

Leaning down, Rick sat down next to her and then pulled her back down onto the bed with him; turning their bodies so that he was spooning her, both facing the window to their immediate right. They shared the same pillow as he stretched his right arm under her neck and wrapped his left around her waist, so that he could cover her left hand with his. In response, she pulled their hands up against her chest and his next move was to bury his face into her neck and press his lips against the skin behind her ear.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"What you said back in that room to Aaron and Eric—if it was just a slip of the tongue and not what you meant to say, I understand."

He was quiet for a minute while nuzzling her neck, his beard tickling her shoulder a little. "I meant every word I said in there."

Rick didn't repeat the sentiment in actual words, and he didn't need to. Georgie could feel them in the way he held her up against his body.

They remained that way in silence for a few more minutes before letting their eyes droop.

Shortly thereafter, sleep claimed them.

* * *

When morning came, Abraham appeared in the doorway to the RV's back bedroom. He was looking down at Rick who was lying there, fast asleep still, with Georgie wrapped in his arms. The burly ginger haired man wasn't some stone cold bastard. He found the scene to be sweet. However, it was dawn and the group needed to get moving.

That's why Abraham leaned down and slapped Rick across the ass with the back of his hand.

"Rise an' shine, Captain Greybeard. The fleet needs to set sail for safer waters."

Rick practically jumped out of his skin, and immediately reached for his weapons out of instinct, but then sank into the bed, realizing he had removed them the night before. Turning his head, he squinted at the other man who was staring down at him and Georgie with a smirk.

"Why are you waking us up with nautical metaphors?" Georgie grumbled.

"Michonne found us another vehicle; a real shit-ass lookin' car, but it runs," Abraham continued. "We're leaving in ten minutes, not a minute later."

Rick sat up and picked the sleep out of his eyes. "Aye, aye," he mock saluted as Abraham turned around and walked back toward the front of the RV. Leaning over Georgie, he questioned, "Did he _seriously_ call me Captain _Grey_beard?"

Georgie simply chuckled as she rolled onto her back and stared up at him. Reaching a hand up, she tugged at his bushy whiskers and puckered her lips. He took the hint and leaned down to kiss her.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," she echoed, and stretched.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead."

Kissing her once more, Rick then leaned back up and looked down at her stomach. He proceeded in lifting her shirt to inspect her bruising in the light of day and he frowned. "I guess it's not that bad," he relented. He touched his fingertips to the purple discoloration and she winced a little. "Did that hurt?"

"It's tender."

"I still want that doctor to make sure you're okay."

"Yes, sir, Captain Greybeard."

"Knock that shit off or I'll—"

"—You'll what?" she cut him off, provoking him with a grin.

"I'll throw you overboard."

Snickering, Georgie gave his arm a shove.

* * *

A while after DC had come into view, just outside Alexandria, the RV broke down.

By that point, Eric was the one occupying the same twin bed Georgie and Rick had slept in, and Aaron was with him. The only ones who weren't traveling inside the RV where Rick (who was driving the car Michonne found), Michonne (who was in the backseat with Carl and Judith), and Georgie, who sat in the front, beside Rick.

But at the moment, everyone was sitting outside both vehicles, wondering if anything could be done to fix the RV.

"The fight's over. You've got to let it go. I know it's hard; after it's kept you warm and fed and alive. But the fight; it turns on you. You've got to let it go," Michonne was saying to Rick who clearly still had his reservations about Alexandria.

"That's what Bob was trying to tell me back at the church," Rick commented. "What to risk. When it's safe. When to let someone in." He sighed, looking over his shoulder at Georgie, who was leaning down inside the backseat with Judith, changing her diaper. "The rules keep changing."

"They did for me," Michonne said.

The engine to the RV roared back to life and the group around it cheered and clapped.

As Georgie approached with a freshly changed Judith, Rick muttered to both her and Michonne, "Before we get going, I got to take a moment."

Both women nodded and watched him walk off toward the woods alone.

"Is my dad alright?" Carl wondered, taking Judith from Georgie.

She nodded. "He's alright."

"This is a big change for us," Michonne spoke. "He's trying to come to terms with it."

Rick wasn't gone ten minutes when he returned, and as soon as he had everyone piled back into both vehicles and continued up the road about a mile.

Taking the lead the remainder of the way, Rick brought the car to a halt as they came upon the gates to Alexandria. As he parked, he let the car idle as he took in the gate and the wall. Georgie reached her hand out toward the steering wheel and patted his hand encouragingly, and she watched as he hardened gaze softened and his tight grip on the steering wheel loosened.

Turning, Rick looked at her and she smiled at him, giving him a nod.

_We can do this_, was the message her eyes conveyed.

"Ready?" Georgie asked.

He nodded and she could see he was still a bit shaky with anxiety. "Yeah," he finally answered. "Yeah."

As he turned off the ignition, the rest of the group had already piled back out of the RV with their supplies and weapons in hand. Georgie hopped out of the car, followed by Michonne and Carl, with Michonne grabbing Judith. When Rick eventually climbed out, he reached for his daughter.

Rick smiled at her. "Hey. Hey, sweetheart. Come here."

Carol sidled up beside him. "Even though you were wrong, you were still right."

Looking after Carol as she walked away, he glanced back at Judith and chuckled. Georgie stepped around to his side of the car and offered him her hand which he took without hesitation.

"Should we go?" he asked her with a hopeful smile.

"Yeah."

As they walked hand in hand up to the gate, he whispered, "What do you miss?"

Georgie didn't answer. She just looked up at him and smiled back.


	16. New Doors

**Author's Note: Just a heads up, there is no Jessie, Pete or their kids in Alexandria. That plot has been changed to suit my storytelling needs. _*evil grin*_ Enjoy!**

* * *

"_We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths." __― _Walt Disney

* * *

The gate to Alexandria squealed slightly as it was pulled open from the inside. The group moved forward with Aaron holding Eric up as they led the others. As soon as Eric had disappeared around the gate, hobbling as he went, an animal shriek and the rustling pop of a garbage can at the group's left made them jumpy as they aimed their weapons. Without hesitation Daryl shot an arrow into what turned out to be an opossum. Beside Aaron at the entrance stood another man, staring at Daryl who bent down and lifted the now dead opossum up by its tail.

"I brought dinner," he quipped.

Georgie shot him a smirk before looking forward at her first glimpse into the community like a child about to discover Disney World for the first time.

"It's okay," Aaron assured the other man. 'C'mon in, guys."

Leaving behind their vehicles and the charred shells of the homes outside the gate, the group slowly entered inside, making sure to keep their wits about them. As the gate rolled closed, they all turned to look at it and it felt like it was there to keep them in rather than keep anyone out.

"Before we take this any further, I need you all to turn over your weapons," the other man informed. "Stay, you hand them over."

"We don't know if we _want_ to stay," Rick replied, one arm down at his side with his Colt out, and the other wrapped around Judith.

"It's fine, Nicholas," Aaron spoke.

"If we were gonna use them, we would have started already."

"Let them talk to Deanna first."

"Who's Deanna?" Abraham demanded.

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place." Aaron focused back on Rick. "Rick, why don't you start?"

A walker snarling nearby caused Rick to turn around and crane his head to peer through the slates in the gate. "Sasha," he gestured.

Turning around and aiming her rifle, Sasha pulled the trigger and blew through the walker's skull with one shot. As she tuned back around the secondary gate was rolled closed.

"It's a good thing we're here," Rick remarked with a tinge of sarcasm.

The group followed behind Aaron, Eric and Nicholas, walking up the road directly in front of them. There were several houses all around; the exact number they couldn't pinpoint at the moment. There was one white house facing the main gate, at their right, when they first entered, and a grouping of solar panels beyond that. There was even a pond with a red brick walking path around it.

It seemed so peaceful, as if they'd stepped into the past, before the outbreak.

The streets were clean; there was no debris or dead bodies. The homes were in mint condition and looked as if they must've been built not long before the world went to hell. These weren't the houses they were used to seeing; houses that had been looted or burned, more like those just outside the gate.

These were nice homes. They were picturesque. It was almost too good to be true and they just hoped that wasn't the case.

When they reached an intersection, they turned right. Aaron pointed out the white house, third from the corner, as his and Eric's and that everyone was welcome to come on buy and visit whenever they wanted; their door was always open.

Walking around what looked to be a grouping of row houses, the group was led to the first one and were greeted at the front door by a woman was in her late fifties or early sixties. She looked like a politician running for office, in Georgie's opinion. Or a high school principal.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to Alexandria," she greeted. No one responded, so she zeroed in on Rick. "I would like to talk to each member of your group first if you are all right with that. It will be in a safe and comfortable place; my living room. I need to get a feel for everyone. You understand that safety of the people you look after is of great importance."

Rick nodded. He held his gaze with her a while, both trying to size the other up. When he looked away from her, he then turned to Georgie and handed Judith over.

"Play nice," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around Judith. "Holster your gun."

Looking her in the eye, he nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll try."

Giving him a withering look, she shook his head. He could be so petulant sometimes and still it made her smile. Rick cast his eyes upon the rest of the group, asking for them to stay put, that he'd be right back. Giving Carl a side hug, he then stepped away and up the stairs to the front door where Deanna offered her hand and then led him inside. Before he disappeared into the house, Rick gave one look around at his people and their surroundings.

The group remained standing together, just waiting and not saying much. Nicholas kept eyeing Georgie as she bobbed Judith up and down on her hip and she wasn't sure she liked the look of him. She knew the people in her group, her _family_, but she didn't know him and she wasn't sure she wanted to know him.

"Your daughter's cute," he complimented her.

"Thanks," she replied, not feeling the need to correct him and explain Judith wasn't really hers.

Carl had heard the exchange and glanced over at her with a smile, and Georgie smiled back.

A short time later, Rick stepped back outside with the woman, Deanna, and it was decided the group would indeed be staying, but that they would have to turn over their weapons.

Georgie didn't mind turning over her gun. There was no ammo in it anymore anyway, but her hunting knife. That had been her father's, the one item aside from her children's pictures and her son's drawings that she had of any material importance. She hesitated in having to relinquish it.

"They're still your guns," Deanna was saying as everyone began placing their guns on a wheeled cart.  
You can check them out whenever you go beyond the wall. But inside here, we store them for safety."

Georgie laid her gun down on the cart and unsheathed her knife, but made no further move. Rick walked up and placed a hand on her arm.

"You can keep it," he assured. "They only want our guns."

She looked at him and sighed with relief, placing her knife back at her side. Not having it there would've felt like losing a limb.

"Should have brought another bin," a plump brunette jested as she wheeled the cart away from the group when all the guns were handed over.

While the group took turns then, talking with Deanna inside her home, Rick and Carl had walked off with Aaron to inspect where the group was going to live. When it was Georgie's turn, she handed Judith to Michonne and followed Deanna inside where she was brought into a living room that looked warm and inviting. There were books everywhere, and all of them looked like they had been read more than once; whether Deanna was the one who had read the books or not was neither here nor there.

"Please, have a seat," Deanna spoke, gesturing to the chair across from the couch after she allowed Georgie to taken in the interior of the room for a moment. "Is it alright if I film this?"

Georgie glanced at the camera perched behind the couch where Deanna was sitting down. She shrugged. "Sure, I guess." Sitting down as well, she locked her knees together and leaned forward slightly as she picked at her dirty fingernails.

"I'm Deanna Monroe," Deanna officially introduced herself.

"Georgie Brant."

"Did you say Brant?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Georgie narrowed her gaze. "Why 'oh'?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Deanna smirked as if she was privy to some great secret. "Sorry, I just assumed it was Grimes."

"You thought I was Rick's wife," Georgie deduced. Off Deanna's nod, she added, "Yeah, Aaron and Eric thought so, too."

"Must be the rings and how close you two seem."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to get rid of mine."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not actually married anymore," she replied. "I haven't been married since this world went to hell in a handbasket."

"How did you lose your husband?"

"He walked out. He wasn't man enough to stay with his family when the going got _beyond_ tough. He took off for Atlanta after we had a fight and that was the last I've seen of him. I assume he's dead. I found his truck about two weeks later, just outside our hometown with the keys still in the ignition and blood everywhere."

"Rick is not your husband, but you two are obviously close. Is Judith your daughter?"

"I consider her my child now, but no; Judith isn't my biological daughter. Her mother died giving birth to her from what I've been told."

"Is Carl your son?"

"No, he and Judith had the same mother, but I also consider him my child now."

"Have you ever had children of your own?"

"Yes and they're both dead. Next question," Georgie snipped.

Deanna paused, trying to read the ginger haired woman across from her. "How long were you out there?"

"Too long."

"How long have you been with your family?" Deanna questioned, referring to the group outside.

"A little over a month. Maybe a month and a half."

"Were you alone before that?"

"No, there were two other groups. Both were killed by walkers, but I managed to survive," Georgie looked down sadly, remembering her friend Dana's face when she shot her in the head so she would suffer being torn into by the walkers that were attacking her. "I was found on the road by Carol and she led me to the rest of the group soon after. We've been together since. We've lost a few along the way, but we've held together. It's all we can do anymore."

"Who were you before the world changed? What did you for a living?"

"Why does it matter anymore?" Georgie leaned back and gripped her armrests as she held onto Deanna's gaze.

"Because it _does_," the older woman insisted with a smirk. She found something about Georgie answering a question with a question to be amusing. "Maybe I tell you about who I was first. Does that sound fair?"

"It's your house."

"I was a congressperson from Ohio, 15th district. My husband, my sons and I…we tried making it home when everything fell apart so I could help my district manage the crisis. However, the army stopped us on a back road and directed us here. They were supposed to come later, but hey didn't. However, there were supplies here and we made the best of it."

"I figured you were either a politician. Or a high school principal."

"Oh, you did? Are you good at reading people, too?"

Georgie shrugged. "You just look like and talk like one." She looked around the room for a moment, taking the details a little more. "You have everything a person could ask for in your home, but I don't see any photographs of your family. Why's that?"

"We didn't have time to grab them when we tried leaving Virginia," Deanna replied. "If you're wondering what my family looks like, you'll meet them soon enough. They're around." Smiling, she added, "My husband Reg was a professor of architecture. He helped build our walls from parts he found at a shopping mall nearby that was being built, but whose construction had stopped for obvious reasons. You see, who he was mattered quite a bit. He got the first plates up with our sons. And, after a few weeks, more people arrived and we had help. We had a community. But what we need now is people who have lived out there in the world and I told as much to Rick. Your group is the first we've considered bringing in for a long time."

"Not that I blame you, but what happened that's made you wary of outsiders for so long?"

"What happened is that in a group of four men we brought in, I allowed only one to remain," Deanna answered. "I exiled the other three who didn't work out. And we both know that's as good as killing them."

"No, that doesn't kill them. It just forces them to fight harder to live, to survive. I have seen the worst of mankind beyond these walls and what human beings, _not_ walkers, will do to other people when they think they are out of options. The walkers aren't the ones you necessarily have to be afraid of. They're dead; they don't know what they're doing. They have absolutely no control over it. It's not life, it's not death; it's purgatory. But the other human beings, most that I've seen or met...they're the real monsters; stuff nightmares are made of and you'd do well to be very careful of you let inside this place or even near its walls."

"Are you saying you believe people aren't to be trusted?"

"I'm saying most people _shouldn't_ be."

"Do you believe anyone in your group is someone who shouldn't be trusted? I would like to know."

"I trust my people with my life," Georgie replied, standing up. "All of them." She walked over to the windows and could see Rick and Carl in the distance, up the road, approaching a house at the very end as Aaron walked back in the direction of his own home. "I was a mother and a wife, I worked part-time answering phones and taking care of paperwork at my dad's auto body shop a few days a week, but in my spare time, what I loved to do, what I _was_, was a metal sculpture artist." Georgie turned around and looked back at Deanna, who seemed intrigued. "I would find pieces of scrap metal or old furniture, and I would repurpose it. I would take something someone was throwing away in the trash and turn it into something beautiful. My husband used to call me 'Martha Stewart with a soldering iron'." Georgie scoffed at the memory. "He said I was the jack of all trades. I managed our family and my father's business and somehow had time to build the things I built. It was all in a week's work. But now that feels like something that happened to someone else a million years ago."

"You sound as if you would like more of a purpose in life. I could offer you a position at the pantry to start; bringing supplies to all the families here. And since you have experience with welding and metalwork, I suppose my husband would love to meet you very soon. He could always use the help. He has ideas of expanding these walls at some point." Deanna walked Georgie looking away from her and back to the window. "Do those sound like things that would interest you?"

Slowly, Georgie nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, they do." She brought her gaze back to Deanna and nodded again. "But first I would like to see where I'm gonna be living."

Deanna grinned. "Of course." The older woman stood up and turned around to turn off the camera. Then, stepping forward, she offered Georgie her hand. "I hope you come to enjoy being here."

"So do I," Georgie replied, shaking Deanna's hand.

* * *

After leaving Deanna's home, she asked Aaron to show her to the pantry. Deanna had said someone could stop by with the supplies the group would need in the two houses they were being given, but Georgie insisted an easier transition would be to let them get their own things for themselves, to which Deanna agreed. Plus, it was good for Georgie to see where she might be helping out at and get a feel for who she might be working alongside.

In the pantry was Olivia, the same plump woman that had carted all the guns away. She was taking stock of each weapon and cataloging who they belonged to when Georgie arrived with Aaron. After formal introductions were made, Aaron mentioned that Georgie was to be given a basket of supplies to take with her back to her new home. Olivia began to protest at first, saying another pantry worker could do that in a little while, but Georgie shot her down, insisting on the task herself.

"After all, this might be my job here," Georgie had remarked. "I might as well get my feet wet."

With a laundry basket full of all sorts of things, like paper towels, a cheese grater, and tea bags, Georgie walked past several of her people, looking at her with smirks.

"Look at you, fitting right in," Glenn teased.

"Gotta hit the ground running."

"You _look_ like you hit the ground running," he retorted, gesturing to his face, but referring to hers.

Smiling and narrowing her eyes, she glared playfully back at Glenn before glancing at Eugene. "Eugene, you're off the hook. Glenn's gonna receive the kick to his teeth instead."

Eugene nodded. "Much obliged."

With a chuckle, Aaron pointed at the last two houses down the road on their right. "Those two belong to your group now. Rick and Carl went inside the last one to look around first and clean up."

"Alright, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"No, _seriously_, Aaron." She held his gaze. "Thank you for this. You have no idea how long—"

Aaron held up a hand. "It's okay. Just…start living again."

"I will," she smiled, nodding.

"Oh, and I'll mention to our good doctor that you need to see him about, you know," Aaron commented, looking sheepish as he gestured toward her stomach.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe I'll go see him later."

Turning away from Aaron, Georgie continued up the road, feeling the sun on her face and enjoying its warmth because she knew she now had a place to escape to when it became too much.

Approaching the last house, she stopped and looked up at it. It was grey, just like the one next to it, but this one had bright yellow doors. Smiling to herself, she knew she could just walk right in, since this was her home now, too, but instead she found amusement in knocking on the door like a regular person again, for shits and giggles. While she waited, she looked down into the basket, inspecting further upon the items she'd been given. However, when she looked back up, her jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

Georgie was staring through the glass window of the door, looking right at a very clean shaven Rick Grimes who was poking his head out, carefully, to see who was there. She couldn't believe her eyes. He almost looked like a different person and, with the beard and mustache gone, he even looked younger.

It wasn't just his newly shaven face or the fact that his freshly washed hair was still wet and clinging around his face. It was that he was shirtless.

The first and last time she had seen him shirtless was back at Gabriel's church when she had attempted to wash his soiled shirt in the bathroom sink.

That seemed like forever ago.

Without further hesitation, Rick stepped forward and pulled the door open for her.

"Hey," she greeted with a smile.

"Hey," he greeted back.

Pressing her lips together to keep from smiling like a loon, Georgie inhaled and then finally spoke again. "Hello, my name is Georgie Brant, and I'm new in town and wanted to come by and introduce myself. And I've brought goodies from the pantry."

Rick smirked. "I'm Rick Grimes," he replied. "I just moved to town, too."

They just stared at each other for a moment as Rick took the basket from her.

"So…"

"So."

"So, that's what you look like under all that beard."

"Yeah, I was just cleaning up."

"I can see that." Georgie smirked and she gestured to her own chin. "You still have some shaving cream on your chin." After he wiped it off by rubbing his chin against his shoulder, Rick looked back up at her as she pointed at him. "I could give you a cut if you want. It's been a while, but I used to cut my kids' hair all the time," she offered.

"You don't have to do that."

"No, I don't _have_ to," Georgie agreed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind them. "But I _want_ to."

Rick shrugged. "Alright. Suit yourself."

Stepping further into the house with him, she finally got her first glimpse at it, and it was so clean and nice. "Is there hot water, too?" she asked.

"Hot water, electricity," he replied, setting the basket down on the kitchen counter. "It's—it's pretty nice." He gestured, pointing up at the ceiling. "There's, like, four bedrooms upstairs, one down here. There's three bathrooms. And that's just this house. Carl's using one of the bathrooms upstairs right now. I haven't even looked next door yet." Turning to look back at her instead of everyone around them, Rick added. "Did you want the full tour?"

"That's okay. I'll see plenty of it soon enough. How about I cut that hair while it's still wet?"

"Yeah…okay." He nodded. "Let me go get my shirt and find some scissors."

As she watched him walking away, up the stairs, she realized something felt different. She realized they were no longer just survivors wandering the world, thrown together. Now they were people again, living in a community and it felt like they were going to have to get used to each other again in this new light. It was a little awkward, and a little exciting.

Rick returned a few moments later with a towel and wearing that same old, greyish shirt he claimed had once been white that she had tried cleaning for him.

"I didn't realize you kept that shirt. I thought you tossed it when we got to Greensboro and found those new clothes to wear."

"Nah," he shrugged.

"Well, hopefully they can provide us with some clean clothes here and not just cheese graters and paper towels," she quipped. "You got the scissors?"

He removed them from his back pocket and handed them over to her. Grabbing a chair from the dining table, he pulled it into the kitchen and sat down as she took the towel from him as well and draped it over his shoulders.

"So what do you think of this place so far?" he asked as she began to trim off the ends of his hair.

"I think I really like it, what little I've seen." She brushed some of the hair off the towel and onto the floor to clean up later. She assumed these homes were equipped with brooms and dust pans. "Maybe you and I can go for a walk later, after you give me the grand tour of this house. We can see what this place has with our own eyes. Of course, that will have to wait until I can grab me one of those hot showers, too."

Rick's shoulders sagged slightly as she cut a little more off here and there. "It's just so…I don't know how to take this all in. Electricity, showers, haircuts—I never thought I'd see those again."

"Come on. Haircuts were never going away," Georgie jested. Hearing him sigh and watching how he hunched forward a bit, she frowned and placed her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay if you're not okay with this yet. It's gonna take all of us time to get used to it again." Resting a hand on the back of his head, she just held it there for a moment, before brushing any excess bits of hair away. "That's better."

Reaching into the basket, she pulled out a handheld mirror and gave it to Rick. As she removed the towel from his shoulders, she watched as he stared as his reflection. Georgie smiled at how dumbfounded he seemed by his appearance. Crouching down with the towel she scooped up the hair on the floor and found a waste bin under the sink to dump it all into. Turning back toward Rick, she found him with the mirror still in his hand but it was resting in his lap as he just stared at the floor before him.

Walking back up to him, Georgie knelt down and brought her hands to the sides of his face and smiled at how smooth it was. She was able to get him to look her in the eye and smile back at her.

"You are truly handsome no matter what you look like," she admired, rubbing her thumbs along his chin. "If there's a God, then he broke the mold with you, Rick."

Rick rolled his eyes but only ended up settling upon her face once more. Standing up, he set the mirror down on the chair and watched as she stood up with him. "I want this to work out. All of it," he said.

"It will." Then, she added, "I hope it will."

Whether they were talking about Alexandria or each other was anyone's guess. Maybe both.

Reaching an arm around her waist, he pulled her up against his chest and then brought his opposite hand up to the side of her face so he could kiss her.

"Mmm," she sighed. "I cannot believe how amazing you smell right now."

Rick grinned against her lips. "I wish I could say the same about you," he teased.

Pulling her face back from his in mock offense, Georgie gently slapped his face. He winced, even though it didn't hurt in the slightest. He simply grinned some more.

"Ooh, do that again."

Laughing, Georgie gave him a shove and he retaliated by coming back at her to tickle her sides. As soon as he got her cackling and her legs buckled, he swooped her up; holding her like a groom about to carry his bride over the threshold. Letting out another laugh, they smiled at each other and she slapped his chest playfully as he carried her up the stairs.

"Where are you taking me? Put me down."

"You need to shower. You smell like shit."

"Asshole," she cackled some more.

"Pigpen."

Instead of coming back at him with another retort, she just stared at him as he continued to carry her up the stairs. There was a faint smile on his lips when she leaned her face in to kiss him once more.

"I love you," she freely uttered.

Rick stopped when they reached the top step, and set her back down on her feet. He looked back at her, right in the eye and his smile brightened. "I love you, too."

* * *

After Georgie had gone into the same bathroom Rick had used, and gotten her hot shower, she truly felt like a human being again. She stood at the sink with a towel wrapped around her body and she wiped the steam from the mirror. She stared at her reflection and smiled, shifting her weight from one leg to the other and thinking about how good it felt to have been able to shave her legs and under her arms again for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Not only did she feel like a human being again, she felt like a _woman_ again.

A knock at the door grabbed her attention.

"Yeah?"

"It's Carol. I was given some cleans clothes to bring back here after my talk with Deanna."

Walking up to the door, Georgie opened it a crack and Carol stuck her hand in, holding out a green shirt, underwear and what looked like black yoga pants.

"Thank you," Georgie said, taking the clothes. "Do you need to get in here and shower?"

"No, that's okay. I just changed my shirt. I'll shower later. Take your time."

After she was dressed in those clean clothes, which fit well enough, Georgie put her boots back on, which didn't really go well with the rest of her outfit. She was grateful for what she was given, but she wished she could choose next time. She preferred something sturdier, like jeans, rather than yoga pants. And if she was gonna be in pajama-esque clothes like this, sneakers might work better than her boots. Plus, they'd be more comfortable.

While her hair was still damp, she pulled it back into a ponytail with the hope of finding a brush later to get through the snarls; a task she knew would be painful. Then, picking up her dirty clothes, she exited the bathroom and went downstairs to toss them into the garbage when she stopped and realized she didn't have to do that. They had washers and dryers and laundry detergent here. She could salvage these clothes and wear them again. So, she wandered off toward the back of the house and found the laundry room and set them down on top of the washer for now.

Wandering back through to the front of the house, she found the doors were all open; the front and the double ones off the kitchen. Most of the group was sitting around the living room or at the dining table. Tara seemed excited about something above the front door; maybe the crown molding? Stepping out through the kitchen doors, Georgie walked up behind Carol and found Rick there, holding Judith. Carl was there as well, and Daryl was sitting on the porch by the stairs, gutting the opossum he'd killed earlier, pulling its intestines out and slapping them down on the floor.

"You can look," Rick said to Carl, who seemed very curious about the house next door. "Just be quick."

"Okay." Carl nodded obediently and then skipped down the stairs to head next door.

Rick then gave Carol a look which was a nonverbal request for her to go with his son, just in case. Carol obliged and followed after the boy. Georgie drew nearer to Rick and poked Judith playfully in the tummy, making the girl gurgle and smile. Shortly after, Rick handed Judith off to Georgie while he and Daryl walked both properties to get a better feel of them.

Georgie was standing by the railing closest to the other house when Rick and Daryl came walking up between both, and Carol came out of the other house to join them.

"They're right next to each other, but—" Carol began, without having to actually finish.

Rick agreed to her train of thought, nodding. "They took our weapons and now they're splitting us up."

"Yup," Daryl spoke.

"Yeah. We'll all be staying in the same house tonight," Rick informed as Carol just smiled at him.

"Well, there's definitely plenty of pillows and blankets," Georgie remarked.

Rick turned and looked up at her and nodded. "Yeah, there is."

A few hours after night had fallen, everyone was gathered inside the house; sitting around, getting comfortable with their makeshift beds on the floor. There was a pack-n-play crib they had to use for Judith, which Rick was placing her into while Daryl watched. Carl was reading a comic book, Noah was trying to figure out what one of the decorations beside the dining table was supposed to be and Georgie was sitting atop the table, watching as Sasha and Abraham stared out the windows at the quiet street.

Michonne sighed as she appeared, looking relaxed as she held a toothbrush in her hands "How long was I in there for?"

"Twenty minutes," Rick replied.

"God, I could not stop brushing," Michonne smiled, rubbing her nose. When she finally took in the sight of him, she smiled even more. "Huh. I've never—I've never seen your face like that."

"I said the same thing," Georgie chuckled, swinging her legs gently back and forth.

"That's what I felt before _and_ after," he remarked, rubbing his face.

Just as he began to walk over toward Georgie, he turned when Michonne leaned into speak quietly to him about something no one else was privy to. After whatever words were exchanged, Rick turned back to look at Georgie with a smile just as there was a light knocking on the glass of the front door.

Everyone sat or stood up, alert. Rick walked over to the door and opened it up.

"Rick, I—" It was Deanna, and she was just as stunned by Rick's new look as many of the others had been. "Wow."

Rick sighed, clearly no longer amused by all the similar reactions he was receiving.

"I didn't know what was under there," Deanna smiled as Rick nodded. "Listen, I don't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all settling." Looking around at the living room, at everyone gathered, she seemed either surprised or impressed. "Oh my. Staying together," she commented, looking back up at Rick. "Smart."

"No one said we couldn't."

Deanna kept smiling up at him. "You said you're a family. That's what you said. Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that. Don't you think?"

"Everybody said you gave them jobs."

"Mmhmm. Yeah." She nodded and looked at everyone again. "Part of this place." Letting out a laugh and looking at Rick once more, she muttered, "Looks like the Communists won after all."

"Well, you didn't give me one," Rick said, leaning on the door.

"I have. I just haven't told you yet," she answered. "Same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha. And I'm _just_ trying to figure Mr. Dixon out, but I will." With one more approving look at him, Deanna said, "You look good," and then headed out.

Rick closed the door behind her and turned to the others before finally walking over to Georgie and standing beside her where she was sat on the table.

"Deanna's right," Georgie insisted.

"'Bout what?"

She looked around Rick to Michonne. "He looks good, right? Like, we could sign him up for a beauty pageant."

Michonne grinned and nodded in agreement, pulling at the shoulder of Rick's shirt. "Oh, definitely." Then, joke-singing, "Here he comes, Mr. Alexandria."

"Alright, both of ya'll shut up."

* * *

The next morning, everyone was up and heading out to get to look around the community. A stroller had even been dropped off earlier for them to take Judith around in so that they didn't have to constantly carry her everywhere.

Georgie was finishing brushing through the last bit of her hair inside the kitchen while she glimpsed Rick standing in the doorway of the front entrance watching as everyone walked away. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail again, she sidled up beside him as he looked down at Daryl who was sitting on the porch with his back against the railing.

"They said explore. Let's explore," Rick said.

"Nah," Daryl shrugged. "I'll stay."

"Alright." Rick stepped out onto the porch and looked out at the street, at a woman walking a dog. "Lori and me, we used to drive through neighborhoods like this, thinking, 'one day.'"

"Well, here we are."

Rick looked over his shoulder at Georgie and took her hand. "We'll be back."

As they walked together up the road, Rick started whipping his head from side to side in a panic.

"Whoa, hey, what's wrong?"

"I didn't see which way Carl and Judith went, did you?"

"Hey," Georgie placed her free hand upon his chest. "It's alright. They couldn't have gotten far."

Rick practically dragged her as he sprinted toward the intersection and then she pulled him to a stop and he looked near wild-eyed at her. "What?"

She pointed at the first house they had seen on their left when they arrived the day before. There on the porch was an elderly couple, happily talking to Carl who was holding Judith while the couple fawned over her.

"There," Georgie said. "I think it's probably just been a very long time since anyone around here has seen a baby. She's gonna have to put up with some pinched cheeks."

As she smiled up at Rick, she could see he was calming down. He nodded at her, and smiled back. But just as he was about to lean in and kiss her, they heard the clatter of a bike hitting pavement and a child's footsteps running toward them.

"_Mommy!_"

Rick and Georgie whipped their heads in the direction of that first house on the corner of their side of the street to find a blonde boy of about nine years running toward them with his arms held out before him. Rick seemed very confused when the child threw himself at Georgie and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and wouldn't let go.

Georgie immediately let out a gasp and dropped to her knees so she was eye level with the boy and cold hold his face in her hands.

Rick watched as tears burst from her eyes and a sob unexpectedly escaped her lips when he began to comprehend what was happening.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she kept repeating.

"Mommy," the boy cried. "I thought the monsters killed you."

Pulling the boy into her arms, as he seemed to wrap his entire being around her, Georgie rocked him back and forth as her whole body shook with sobs. "My boy—oh god, you're alive."

Rick dropped down to his knees as well, and placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on the back of the boy's head to try and get a better glimpse at him.

And, sure as shit, it was the same boy from Georgie's photograph, only about two years older.

"Tristan," Georgie cooed. "Oh thank god."

"Did you miss me, mommy?"

"Every day, with every breath in my body," she replied. Georgie looked like she had seen the face of God himself and been baptized with holy fire. "I was so scared. I didn't know what happened to you, but I never stopped looking." Looking at Rick she found him smiling back at her, beyond happy for her.

"He's been here," he said. "He wasn't one of those boys in Greensboro."

"No, he had to have been there. His drawing." Pulling Tristan back, she pulled the drawing out of her pocket and opened it up. "Did you draw this, honey?"

Tristan nodded. "Yeah, at the big house with the pool. But I left it."

"Why did you leave that house?" she asked, curiously. "Did something bad happen?"

Tristan nodded again. "Bad men came at night while we were sleeping and started shooting their guns. Melissa and me ran away without them seeing us?"

"Who's Melissa? Is she here?"

"No," Tristan frowned, shaking his head. "We were walking a real long time before she found us a car to drive in, but then we ran out of gas and had to walk again. Then one of the monsters attacked her and she told me to run away as fast as I could and not look back. And I did, I ran the fastest I ever ran. Then I hid in the forest under a bunch of leaves."

"How long were you by yourself, buddy?" Rick wondered.

Tristan looked warily at him before responding. He shrugged. "I dunno. A bunch of days. I had to eat worms 'cause I got so hungry, but then Aaron found me on the road and brought me back here in his big RV."

Georgie looked exasperatedly at Rick and hugged her son back to her again. "Tristan, this is Rick," she said. "Rick, this is my son, Tristan."

Rick smiled and held his hand out. "Hello, Tristan. Your mommy has told me so much about you. How you were a Cub Scout and everything."

Tristan smiled right back and shook Rick's hand. "Hiya."

Georgie looked over her son's head and noticed many of their group and other Alexandrians had gathered, having heard the commotion and seemed overcome with their own emotion over the reunion between mother and son.

As she stood up with Tristan, Georgie smiled, almost embarrassedly, at everyone, and was about to grab for Rick's hand when a familiar figure of a man approached, walking down the front steps from the corner house Tristan had come from.

"Georgie? Is that you?"

Her face fell and the color seemed to drain from her face.

"My god, it _is_ you. Holy shit."

The man was tall, blonde and blue eyed, with a charming smile as he came nearer.

Rick looked at Georgie. "You know him?" he asked, getting defensive on her behalf; to protect her if need be.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, looking both stunned and despondent. She gestured between both men. "Jake, this is Rick. Rick, this is Jake," she introduced. "My husband."

With those two words, Rick's face fell as well.


	17. The Villain

**Author's Note: Just wanna say again, thanks for all the lovely reviews. They keep me going! xoxo**

**P.S. In my head, Jake looks like actor Patrick Wilson (_The Conjuring_,_ Insidious 1_ &amp; _2_).**

* * *

"_You're keeping in step _

_In the line _

_Got your chin held high and you feel just fine _

_Cause you do _

_What you're told _

_But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold" _

― Nine Inch Nails

* * *

Georgie stood in the living room of the corner home, touching her fingers upon the back of the blue sofa and her mind thought back to the blue sofa in the law office with Carol. Except this sofa had decorative pillows and was in an actual house. There was even a coffee table with grey, plastic army men scattered on it. To her right was an art easel with paints, but the canvas remained blank. Above the fireplace was a flat screen TV and to the left of the fireplace was a sort of small buffet table or hutch that was topped with two speakers and a record player which were covered in stacks of CDs, DVDs and more toys.

Slowly, she migrated into the kitchen and spotted drawings on the fridge. There were dirty dishes in the sink and some clean ones stacked on the side. To the right of the kitchen was the breakfast nook with a table that sat four. From what she could see, it looked homey and very lived in, but it was sterile and foreign to her.

The front door shut behind her and she turned around to face Jake who was approaching her with a shy smile as he clasped his hands behind his back. With each step closer he took toward her, she took half a step back. When he realized what she was doing, he stopped and held his hands up in a sort of surrender.

"Sorry, I know this is probably a lot to take in."

"Trust me, you have no idea." Turning, Georgie looked past him to the front porch. Outside the front picture window she could see the back of her son's head as he sat on one of the porch chairs, waiting to come in after his parents talked. "I thought you were dead."

"I thought the same about you."

She glared at him. "You _left_ us for dead, Avery and me. You walked out. You ran away." She pointed at the window, at their son. "And here you are with our son, who I spent the last year and a half looking for." Georgie could tell Jake was staring at her but she could look at him at the moment. She was so focused on Tristan. "I finally gave up that ghost only just a week ago. I told myself you were probably right, that Tristan died back at that camping trip."

"Well, I was wrong about that. He survived because of the kindness of other people. That's what you hoped, and that's what happened."

"Shut up," Georgie spat. Turning to face him once more, she took a step forward. "You walked out," she repeated, emphasizing each word. "I don't even care anymore that you left me behind but you left our daughter behind, too. You were supposed to stay. Through sickness, through health, through good times and bad. Till _death_."

"I know. I screwed up _royally_. I was angry and scared and I made a mistake."

"A mistake," she scoffed. "That's making a molehill out of a mountain. I saw your truck on the road. The keys were still in the ignition. There was blood. I didn't know if you had been killed or if you'd gotten away from whatever happened. But you know what I _felt_?" Georgie shook her head. "I felt _nothing_. I didn't _dare_ feel anything for you, because I had to think about taking care of our daughter, because I was the only who gave a shit about her."

"That's not true," Jake insisted.

Georgie got right in his face and shouted, "Bull-_fucking_-shit! A _man_ stays with his family and protects them. A _man_ keeps the ones he loves safe." She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. "You are no man. If you were, you wouldn't have left. You would've been there to help me save our daughter." Tears were stinging her eyes and slowly rolling down her face as she growled at him through clenched teeth. "You would've been there to help keep her from being killed."

"Wait," Jake muttered, dumbfounded. He reached his hands out to hold onto Georgie's arms. She tried shaking him off but his grip was stronger. "What are you say—I thought that with you here and how well you looked…the amount of people you're with, when I realized it was you…I thought…" Jake pulled his head back and shook it. "Avery's dead?"

Georgie laughed at him through her tears as she watched his own appear. "You actually thought she was alive just because I am?" Boldly, she spit in his face and shoved him off her. "She died two weeks after you left."

Bringing a hand to his face, Jake wiped the spit away and just stared back at her in stunned silence. "How?" he asked.

"You don't get to ask how." She gestured to him and at the inside of this house. "Have you been here the entire time, living the good life while I struggled every day out there?"

"No, just under five months," he replied, gesturing for her to have a seat on the sofa. When she didn't budge, preferring to stand, Jake sat down instead with his hands folded between his knees. "I was brought here by Aaron with three other men I had been traveling with for a while. They weren't good men, but I was safer with them than alone. They, uh, started to cause some problems, so Deanna sent them away but allowed me to stay."

"Why _you_? What makes _you_ so special?"

"They needed a doctor and I gave her no reason not to trust me. Also, there was the fact that I had a son here. As soon as I got here I stopped socializing with those other men. I immersed myself in this community and got to know its people."

"_You're_ the surgeon Aaron and Eric have talked so highly about?"

Jake nodded, smiling awkwardly. "Guilty as charged."

"But you're not a _surgeon_," she remarked. "You're a _pediatrician_. You listened to children's chests with a stethoscope for a living to see if their chests were congested."

"I did a surgical rotation during my internship. I know enough."

Georgie just rolled her eyes. "I was supposed to come see you for an injury I received two nights ago." She chuckled, but not in humor. Just at the irony of the situation. "If it weren't for our son, I would rather ignore this rather than have you look at it." Lifting her shirt she showed him her abdomen, which was very much still bruised. The purple discoloration hadn't faded completely yet. "But, I want to make sure I'm okay, so I can be around for him."

Jake stood up and reached for her but she backed away on instinct. "Georgianna, please." He looked imploringly at her. "Let me take a look at you before we continue with these fisticuffs." Caving, she lifted her shirt a bit higher and let him touch his hands about the bruising. Gently he pressed into it and she winced slightly. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Just a little when someone presses it."

"Any stomach pains or cramps?"

"No."

"How did this happen?"

"Aaron accidentally kicked a car door into me."

Jake nodded, listening as he narrowed his gaze, tracing his fingers along the outline of the bruising. "I think it's just superficial. The bruising will fade. In a few days, if it doesn't go from purple to a greenish yellow, then I need you to tell me, because then it means there's something more serious at play. But, honestly, I think it's just one, big ol' bruise."

Georgie was about to pull down her shirt, but his hand remained; his fingers grazing over a beauty mark she had just to the left of her belly button, followed by a few pronounced freckles. When he smirked at something, she narrowed her eyes. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, I was just remembering…" he began. Looking up at her face, he smiled ruefully. "Remember when you were pregnant with Tristan and we were joking about the stretch marks you were getting?"

The memory sounded familiar, so she nodded. It had been so long and so much had happened that the details of her old life seemed like a dream now.

"You remember what I said about them?" he pressed.

Georgie nodded. "You said the freckles and beauty mark made up a constellation and the stretch marks were thunderbolts." It had been a nice memory and she hated that it brought a small smile to her face.

"Yeah," he nodded. "The constellation of Cancer, to be precise."

"You connected the dots with a Sharpie to show me. I remember." She shook her head at how cheesy that moment seemed now. "You said it meant I had a heavenly body."

"You still do."

Holding out a hand, she pushed him back, creating a distance between them she was more comfortable with. "Stop it. You don't get to say things like that to me."

"I know I messed up and it'll take a lifetime to forgive me, but can you consider trying? Can we be nice and civil to each other?" he questioned, and then gestured toward Tristan. "If not for us, then for our son. He went through a lot before he got here. He thought we were all dead, that he was an orphan. And then I arrived here not long after he did and he got part of his family back, even though he thought you were still dead. But you're not, and I'm not, and we need to stick together for him. He's been through enough and we need to give him some stability back."

"Don't guilt me with that."

"I'm not trying to. I just want what's best for Tristan and right now that's you and I presenting a united front. He needs his mommy and daddy."

"So, what, do you want to share custody?"

Jake looked perplexed. "No, we're gonna live here together, in this house, as a family again."

Georgie frowned, gesturing toward the door. "But my people—"

"_We're_ your people!" Jake barked, and then drew his burst of anger back in; holding a hand up in apology. With a steadying breath, he continued, "Tristan and I are your family. We've known each other since we were children. We grew up in the same church together. We may have come from different social classes, but that didn't matter when I fell in love with you all those years ago. I never stopped loving you, Georgianna."

He leaned his head against hers, and when she jerked slightly away, he brought his hands up to hold her head in place. It was as if he was somehow able to transfer every memory he had of her and every feeling they had shared in the past back to her and she began to cry again.

"Stop it." She slapped his chest. "You can't just do this to me. You can't leave me the way you did in an apocalyptic world and then come back into it like nothing happened. We can't just pick up the pieces."

"Yes, we can. We can try. We can take it slow."

Georgie shook her head. "But my people," she insisted. "They've become my family, too. I love them, too."

"Is that guy you were with—is he someone you love?" There was a hint of jealousy in Jake's voice, laced with something else Georgie couldn't pinpoint.

"You don't get to ask me that."

Holding her chin in his hand, Jake made her look him in the eye. "You're my wife, Georgianna, and I love you, even if you've forgotten how to love me. You'll learn again." He was very sure of himself and there was something scary about it in his eyes. "If it takes you months or years to want to share a bed with me again, that's fine, but you will be staying here, under the same roof. Because, if you want to be with our son, it has to be here. That's how this works, my love."

"Is that an ultimatum?" she questioned, successfully pulling away from him; her emotions all over the place. "Either Tristan _and_ you or nothing at all?"

Jake nodded slowly. "That's the deal." Closing the gap between them again, he got in her face, but not in a threatening way. "I love you, but I love our son more, and I will not let you take him away from me and this house. And I am not going anywhere." He smiled sweetly then. "It can be good again, for all three of us. We can be happy again."

"You say all those things and still have hopes we can work it out?" She knitted her eyebrows. "You can't give me an ultimatum and expect this situation to be copasetic."

Lifting his right hand, Jake trailed his fingers along Georgie's jaw and then around the back of her head where he promptly grabbed a fistful of her hair from her ponytail. "You are my wife, I am your husband. We are going to play the happy family again because that's what our son needs and I know you want our son to be happy," he spoke as his blue eyes darkened as if a light had been turned off.

"And if I don't? How will you stop me from leaving with him?"

Jake just smiled. "Tristan!" he called. "C'mere, buddy!"

Georgie turned her head toward the window and saw Tristan perk up as he heard his father shout his name. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, her heart pounded. Jake gestured the boy over to him and then crouched down to his level.

"Son, are you happy that mom's here now?"

"Yeah," Tristan nodded with a big smile that tugged at her heart as he looked up at her and grabbed her hand to hold.

"And you want her to stay with you and me, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, guess what? She is. Mom is gonna live with us and we're gonna be a happy family again because you and I both know how sad we would be if she went away."

Tristan pouted. "You're not gonna go away, are you, mommy?"

Georgie glared at Jake, wondering how he could be so cruel and do this to her. Smiling reassuringly at her son, she held on to both of his hands and turned him to face her. "Of course I want to be here with you. I love you so much." She leaned in and kissed both sides of his face.

"Mommy told me she can't wait to get her things from the other house she was staying in with all those other new people so she can move in here with us."

"Are you moving in today, mommy? And then we can have dinner together tonight like a family again? Are you going to go get Avery from that other house?"

Georgie's heart broke.

If Jake hadn't realized Avery was dead when he saw _she_ was alive, Tristan clearly thought the same thing.

Her chin quivering slightly, fresh tears stung her eyes as she tried to smile through it. "Oh, honey, Avery didn't make it. She got hurt and died. She's up in heaven now, though, with grandma and grandpa, Aunt Crystal and Uncle Josh and all our other friends and family who didn't make it."

Tristan teared up as well, looking more like her when he cried than his father. "Did she feel a lot of pain?"

If Georgie's heart could've broken anymore, it did then. She shook her head to soothe his woes. "No, honey, she didn't feel any pain. It happened too fast." She looked at Jake who was tearing up again. As much as an asshole he was now, she could tell his feelings over losing their daughter were genuine and he felt that pain, as well as the guilt for leaving when he did. "She's not lonely where she is anymore. She's happy and free and doesn't have to worry about anything scary anymore."

As Tristan wiped his eyes, he stepped closer to her and wrapped his arms around her neck. Georgie leaned completely into his hug and held him tight. She looked over her son's shoulders at Jake and continued to glare at him, but something in her eyes was less severe now.

She was giving in.

She couldn't bear to have her son so sad, and she wasn't about to abandon him.

As much as she had grown to love her group, it was a bit crowded when they were all together. And it would be nice to have her own home again. However, she would not be sharing a room with Jake anytime soon. There was still the matter of Rick and how she had fallen in love with him.

"Hey, Tris, why don't you go upstairs to your room and grab a puzzle? You, me and mom will sit at the table and put it together as soon as she gets back from getting her stuff. How does that sound?" Jake commented.

Tristan's face brightened again. "Yeah, okay!"

Georgie watched as her son darted out of the kitchen and turned down some hall. Moments later she could hear his feet pounding up a set of stairs. Turning back to look at Jake, she got to her feet once more and held his gaze.

"How dare you use our son as a pawn."

"I am doing no such thing." Jake grinned. "Georgianna, sweetie, go back to the other house and gather up whatever you need. I will see you back here soon, but don't keep us waiting, okay?"

She just looked at him, trying to figure out what happened to him that turned him into this sociopath of a man. This wasn't the man she married a decade ago. This wasn't even the man who walked out on her and Avery. She didn't know this man, but she knew enough that she felt scared of him, despite the brave front she presented and despite how she was able to stand her ground with him.

It was the look in his eyes.

He could smile so charmingly he could melt the panties off any woman within a ten mile radius, but his eyes were dead.

"What have you done that's made you like this?" she asked him.

Instead of answering her question, he tapped the watch on his wrist and muttered, "Tick, tock, honey. Tick, tock."

What was he capable of? What power did he suddenly have over her that she felt like she couldn't go running back to Rick and tell him everything that had just transpired? She knew Rick would help her in an instant and get her son out. She'd seen what he'd done to people who threatened those he cared about. However, Jake hadn't actually done anything to warrant the violent retaliation she knew Rick was capable of.

Well, Jake hadn't done anything yet.

She really just hoped nothing would happen. She hoped there was something that she could say to get him to see sense that this situation would not work.

Turning around, she walked to the front door and pulled it open. Once she stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind her, she shivered. Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep breath and then let it out slowly as she looked to her right, all the way down to the house at the very end.

Casually, she walked down the stairs and turned onto the sidewalk, passing the first of group's two houses before standing in front of the second. Looking back at Jake's house, because that's how she only thought of it right now, she saw he had come out onto the porch and was nodding at her with a smile.

He was keeping an eye on her and it was so unsettling.

_Come on, Georgie_, she thought to herself. _Just tell Rick. Just tell him the sort of man Jake is now_.

She gave one last look at Jake and her shoulders sagged.

"Dammit," she muttered.

Taking the stairs one at the time, she looked forward and headed toward the open front door when she was stopped by the sight of Daryl still sitting on the porch where she'd last seen him earlier in the morning.

"Hey," he greeted. "I hear your son's alive after all. I'm happy for you."

"Thank you," she smiled weakly.

He narrowed his already small eyes at her and scratched at his dirty face. "Heard your husband's alive, too. That's gotta be awkward."

Letting out a shaky laugh, she nodded. "You have no idea."

Continuing on into the house, more than half the group was already reconvened back inside from their exploration of Alexandria. They greeted her with big smiles and their well wishes about her son being alive. Though, more poignantly, they seemed to avoid making the same stink about her husband.

Ever since the kiss in the barn in front of everyone following the storm, Rick and Georgie's relationship had become more known, and it was, in fact, welcomed. No one thought it odd or strange. They were happy that Rick and Georgie were happy and no one made a production out of it. It was just life, and they had all been trying to go forward with it the best they could. If there was anyone who was still unaware that Rick and Georgie had become an item, she would be genuinely surprised.

She went into the laundry room first and found her clothes from the previous day had been washed and dried and were now folded into a small pile beside several other small piles of other people's clothing. Georgie's first instinct was that Carol was responsible for the kindness. Swooping her clothes up into her arms, she stepped into kitchen where Rosita was flipping through one of the cookbooks on the counter.

"Hey, Rosita," she greeted. "Is Rick around?"

The younger woman nodded. "Yeah, he just got back a few minutes ago. He went upstairs. I think I heard him talking to Carl."

Georgie nodded. "Thanks."

Looking down at the stairs as she ascended them, she made her way to the top step where she and Rick had finally, verbally admitted they loved each other just the day before, which made this harder than ever.

"Rick?" she called out, and waited.

Moments later, she heard heavy footsteps from his boots and a door down the hall opened up, revealing Rick standing there. His face softened immediately when he saw her.

"Hey." Walking up to her, he smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. "So, how'd it go?"

She didn't know how to begin and he seemed to notice her unease, so he led her to another door. Pulling her inside what was one of the three upstairs bedrooms, he sat her down on the bed.

"Is everything okay?"

_No. No, it's not. Tell him, you stupid idiot!_

"Yeah, yeah of course," she lied and immediately hated herself for it.

_Ugh, you're an asshole, Georgie_.

She continued to mentally berate herself but to no avail.

"I get it. Finding out Tristan's alive and Jake, too. That was a curveball, if ever there was."

"I'm not staying here tonight," she spit out.

"No, yeah, that's okay. You should be with your son right now. You should be together."

"Oh, Rick," Georgie pouted. "I don't think I'll be staying here anytime soon. I need to give my son stability again. He needs his mom and dad in the same house with him." She more or less reiterated what Jake had said and she could see the look in Rick's eyes and how his face fell a little as he realized what she was saying. "Jake's my husband, and he's alive, and although he did walk out, it was a very extreme time for us. For everyone. And he made a mistake, a big one, and he wants to make it up. He wants us to work on things. We can't just play house. Our son is old enough and will sense if we're not getting along. Jake and I are gonna work on things."

Rick was shaking his head before he realized he was doing it. "No," he blurted quietly. "You don't have to play house at all. This isn't the same world. These people here, they're not like us. They're weaker. They haven't lived in the real world like we have. But just because it's picturesque within these walls, and looks like it was before, doesn't mean we have to go back to what it was before. Before wasn't always better either."

"No, it wasn't always better. But I need to do this right now, Rick. I need to do this for my son." She tossed her pile of clothes gently between them on the bed before cupping his face with her hands. "I would think you would know what that's like. Our children have to come first, us second."

He blinked a few times, wrapping his mind around this conversation. Something felt off about it. "There's something else that you're not telling me," he insisted. "What about yesterday? What we said—"

"I meant those words and still do, but I gotta do this. It's not like I won't see you around." Tears were stinging her eyes yet again as she smiled through them. "I'm not going anywhere, not really. Just two houses up the road. But until I can figure things out with Jake, I can't be here right now." She moved her right hand from his face, down to his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shushed him. "Trust me, Rick. It's gonna work out. I have hope again."

"I don't like this."

"You don't have to like it. You just have to let me do this."

Jumping up to his feet, Rick walked over to the window and placed his hands on his hips. "I can't just let you go live there 'cause then all I'll see in my head is _his_ arms around your waist and not _mine. _I'm gonna see _him_ kissing your lips and not _me._" Leaning forward, he moved his hands out to rest upon the windowsill. "But if this is what you gotta do, for _now_, then this is what you gotta do."

Standing up, Georgie walked up behind Rick and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head down between his shoulder blades. Straightening his posture back up, he closed his eyes and covered her hands with his. They both just stood there quietly for a moment until she pressed her lips to the back of his neck.

"I will not share his bed," Georgie assured. "I cannot bring myself to do that anytime soon. But doesn't mean I can just waltz down here and jump in yours anytime soon, either."

Rick clenched his jaw and was just thankful she was standing behind him and couldn't see the few tears that had escaped his eyes and rolled down his face.

"Well, you're probably gonna want to head back now, aren't ya?" he asked with a nod. "Don't keep them waiting."

"Rick," she whispered. "Please tell me you don't think of me as some villain who's breaking your hero's heart."

"Well, my heart ain't exactly jumping for joy. But that's alright. This is just a temporary setback." Lifting up a hand, he wiped away the streaks left behind by his tears before turning around to face Georgie. "I can wait for you."

It felt like there was a lead weight on her chest. Georgie sighed and knitted her brow as she leaned her face into his chest and inhaled his scent while holding him tighter in her arms. "I do love you."

"I know." He smiled, trying to let her know he was fine; that everything was fine.

"And I still love Carl and Judith as my own, too. That hasn't changed either. I will help with them, too, when I can."

"That's alright. Just focus on Tristan right now," Rick insisted. "We'll take it one day at a time."

Georgie nodded. "Yeah. One day at a time."

Staring down at her lips, Rick gripped her waist in his hands and kissed her. After a few seconds of barely moving, the kiss deepened and built up rather feverishly, very quickly. Rick turned her away from the window and backed her toward the wall, pressing her against it. Crouching slightly, he hoisted her up a ways and wrapped her legs around his waist, and then ground into her as her hands went straight to his hair, pulling tightly.

"Oh, Rick," she moaned.

And, as usual, they were interrupted, but not by others; by themselves.

They both suddenly realized this couldn't happen right now.

She had to go.

He had to stay.

Pulling his face back from hers, he let his eyes wander to her lips once again, which were now so very swollen from their kiss and he had half a mind to go in for the kill again, so to speak.

"You better go," he whispered, listening to the blood pumping in his ears as his heartbeat gradually slowed to a normal pace.

"Yeah," she nodded.

Dropping her down so that her feet touched the floor, Rick watched as she recomposed herself and walked over to the bed to pick up her clothes. Turning to face her direction, he placed one and on his hip and the other pressed against his crotch to will his erection away. When she looked over at him, despite what was happening, she let out a laugh.

"I guess you should probably take a few minutes before joining the others, huh?"

He smiled a little in return. "Yeah. I wouldn't want to poke anyone's eye out."

"Oh, _really_?"

They both laughed, but their smiles faded.

"I love you," he said quietly.

Georgie's heart fluttered at those words. She held her clothes up to her chest and nodded at him. "I know."

* * *

That night, Rick was standing at the living room window, staring out it while everyone was once again asleep all around the same room. He couldn't sleep, for a number of reasons. He hadn't seen Georgie since that afternoon when she returned to Jake and Tristan and took a part of his heart temporarily with her. Plus, he was thinking of Alexandria and its people as a whole and the part he had to play in this place or _could_ play. He knew he didn't have it in him to put on the meek, Susie Homemaker persona that Carol was doing on purpose. He admired her cunning, but he, himself, didn't seem to possess that kind of talent. He was too closed off most of the time to be able to give the appearance of a social butterfly of any kind.

Rustling behind him made him turn his head and he saw Michonne sitting up. She walked over to him with her arms folded and stared partially out the window and partially at him.

"Deanna hasn't given me a job yet."

Rick looked at her. "You want one?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

"That's signing the papers. That's saying yes, this is how it is." He looked back out the window and sighed.

"You afraid to do that?"

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"So then why are we both awake?" he questioned. Pushing away from the wall, he told her, "I'm gonna take a walk." Placing a hand on her shoulder, he stepped around the others on the floor.

On one of the hooks near the front door, was his jacket. He threw it on and zipped it up and then stepped outside into the night air. Pausing for a moment, he turned to his right, and could see into the window at the figure of Michonne standing there, still looking out the front window. She turned and watched him as he continued on and went down the stairs, one at a time.

Hearing only crickets and the sound of his own breath, Rick walked up the middle of the road with his hands in his coat pockets, and as he approached the house Georgie was in now, Jake's voice called out to him.

"It's Rick, right?"

Coming to a stop in the road, Rick peered through the darkness to see Jake sitting on the front porch. There was one light on in the front room and Rick wondered if Georgie was in there.

"Yeah."

Smoke billowed from Jake's mouth as he took a drag from his cigarette. "You took care of my wife on the road."

"Yeah," Rick nodded.

"Welcome to Alexandria."

With another nod, Rick didn't say anything else as he continued on walking. Once he was past the intersection, he threw a glance over his shoulder back at the house and saw a light on in one of the upstairs bedrooms from a window on the side of the house. Standing there and looking back at him, was Georgie, who waved to him.

Rick was going to wave back but then he lowered his gaze and saw that Jake was still looking at him.

Facing forward, Rick closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and continued walking.

"Welcome to Alexandria," he echoed.


	18. Playing Pretend

_"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players." _― William Shakespeare

* * *

The following morning, day three in Alexandria, Georgie woke up in a queen size bed, on fresh cotton sheets. Physically, it had been the best night's sleep she'd ever had. It had taken forever to fall asleep because her mind was racing with so many thoughts, but eventually her body succumbed and it had been a dreamless sleep. Rolling to one side, she could see out the windows and the sky seemed a bit grey and overcast, which better fit her mood. Even with her son curled up beside her in bed, she wasn't completely happy.

She knew her son went to school in a garage with other young kids in the mornings while the older kids went in the afternoon, but today she was going to keep him home with her. She didn't want to leave Tristan out of her sight. So, Georgie let him sleep a while longer as she climbed quietly out of bed and made her way to the bathroom with some clothes that had been delivered for her the evening before by Olivia from the Pantry.

Taking a quick but hot shower, she changed into one of her new outfits; a pair of khaki pants that were screamed "PTA mom" so she rolled the bottoms up to mid-calf, a loose-fitting white V-neck shirt and a sweater wrapped around her waist for later if the air got cooler. By the time she came out of the bathroom, Tristan was still asleep so she brushed her hair and tied it back into a ponytail and lay back down on the bed to watch her son.

After about twenty minutes, Tristan stirred awake and smiled up at her when he realized she was looking at him.

"Why are you looking at me?" he giggled.

"Because I love you and I haven't been able to look at you for so long, so get used to me doing it a lot from now on."

Tristan rolled his eyes and Georgie retaliated by tickling his sides which got him cackling. As he sprung out of bed with the nimbleness of the cat, he announced he had to pee and darted out of the room to the bathroom. Getting back up, Georgie walked out into the upstairs hall and knocked on the bathroom door to let him know she would be downstairs fixing them some breakfast.

As she walked down to the lower level, she felt like she was walking through a dream; as if she was going to wake up and be back out in the real world, sleeping in the woods, surrounded by the group. She had a bed to sleep in, not leaves and dirt. She had clean clothes to wear every day, not the same things that she'd worn for weeks on end and began to fall apart after a while. She had food to readily eat, instead of going days without. She even had more than just water to drink. She could make tea or coffee. There were bottles of wine in the cupboards, too.

But the material things still paled in comparison to the things that mattered most to her that she was still going without.

Yes, she had her son, but not her daughter, and she never would again, which broke her heart every day when she thought about it. And also, she woke up missing Rick, as well as Judith and Carl. She wanted them to be in this house with her and Tristan, not Jake. She'd rather the five of them become a new, blended family rather than pretend to patch back up her old one with the man she married a decade ago.

That's what he was.

Jake wasn't her husband, he was just the man she married.

The evening before when the three of them sat around the table, putting the puzzle of a covered bridge together, she watched how Jake smiled and laughed along with their son, but she still could feel nothing for him.

This pretense was going to drive her mad.

When she did reach the kitchen, there was a note taped to the faucet written in Jake's chicken scratch handwriting.

**_Gone to the Infirmary. Will be there most of the day. I'll be back for dinner. There's frozen chicken in the freezer. Thaw it and cook that up._**

Georgie scowled and crumpled the note in her hands. Walking into the living room, she pulled back the safety screen from in front of the fireplace and threw the paper onto the logs to be burnt with them later. Once back in the kitchen, she found some eggs in a little basket, not realizing someone must be keeping chickens here. There were also apples sitting on a shelf, so she pulled those out and decided scrambled eggs and apple slices were the way to go for breakfast.

While she prepared the food, Tristan came downstairs and went straight for his army men on the coffee table, but the eggs didn't take long and within a couple of minutes, she was calling him over to the table to eat. While Tristan picked at his food, Georgie made a cup of tea on the stove, but she found herself zoning out, long after the kettle began to whistle.

She was daydreaming about Rick and a smile was tugging at her lips when she heard Tristan's voice cutting through.

"Mom, it's whistling," he called out.

Blinking, Georgie smiled over at her son. "Oops, thank you, honey."

Turning off the burner, she grabbed a mug from the cupboard to her right and poured the hot water in before dipping in a tea bag and letting it sit for a minute.

"Aren't you gonna have breakfast, mom?"

"Hmm—oh, no, I'm not hungry right now."

Tristan bobbed his head to some music that was playing only in his mind as he nonchalantly went back to nibbling on one of his apple slices. The scene brought a smile to Georgie's face and she began to move around the kitchen to fix her tea the way she liked it.

After Tristan was done eating breakfast, he asked if he was going to school, and Georgie shook her head, saying he was spending the day with her instead, which he liked the idea of. He asked if he could ride his bike after he got dressed and she said yes.

She brought her tea with her into the garage where Tristan grabbed up his green bike and she pressed the button to open the garage door for him. As soon as he zipped out of there, she followed behind him. There was no need to worry about cars in this place running him down. She could let him run free which was pretty nice. As they made their way toward the front of the house, she watched as he rode around in circles and occasionally tried to ride without hands, but she firmly told him to stop that so he wouldn't hurt himself.

Not ten minutes later, Georgie spotted Carol walking up the sidewalk and she laughed.

"What are you wearing?"

Carol smiled brightly and came to a stop beside Georgie. "It's my costume. Do you like it?"

"No, burn it."

"I just told Daryl that we need to keep up appearances to make this work."

"Tell me about it."

Reaching out a hand, Carol brushed her fingers through Georgie's ginger tresses and frowned at the look of sadness in her friend's eyes. "What's wrong, sugar plum? Aren't you happy to have your son back? This is what you wanted."

"Of course I'm happy to have my son back, but when I see him, I expect to see my daughter nearby, and then I remember I never can." She kicked her boot at the ground a little while she shoved her free hand into her khakis. "But that's something I've been dealing with a long time now. What I want now isn't exactly the same thing I wanted a year and a half ago, or even two months ago." Taking a few steps back, Georgie sat down upon the steps up to the front porch and held her mug between her knees. Taking a sip, she kept her eyes focused ahead on Tristan. "How are Judith and Carl doing? Are they starting to get used to this place?"

Carol nodded, sitting down beside Georgie. "Judith is fine. Carl's made some friends already I hear. There's a girl named Enid, and a boy named…actually I don't know what his name. I just thought it was sweet that there's a girl here Carl's age. Maybe she'll be his first girlfriend."

Georgie grinned. "Now that is definitely cute." Letting out a laugh, Georgie shook her head.

"What?"

"I'm trying to imagine Rick giving Carl the Birds and the Bees talk."

Carol laughed as well. "He'd probably take Carl out on a supply run outside these walls, with the pretense of manly bonding over killing walkers, while really just trying to look for condoms. Then he would stumble over his words and end up just shoving the entire box in Carl's hand and say something like, 'You gotta do what you gotta do, but be safe about it.'"

Snorting with laughter, both women leaned into one another just as they both turned to their right, spotting Rick walking up the middle of the road with a shoulder bag across his chest and a his Colt and machete holstered at his belt as usual. He was sporting the same clothes as the previous day, and the day before that when Georgie had cut his hair for him.

"What's so funny?" he wondered as he neared them, placing his hands on his hips.

"Just girl talk," Carol replied.

"Where you headed?" Georgie asked, catching his eye and holding it.

"I'm, um, gonna head out and check the perimeter."

"Oh, okay." She nodded. "Keep safe."

"Will do."

With a gentlemanly bow of his head, Rick began to walk away, turning right onto the main road into Alexandria.

As Georgie watched after him, Carol nudged her. "What's happened between you two?"

"Nothing." She gestured to the house. "I'm keeping up appearances to make this work, too." Taking another sip of tea, she added, "We all gotta play our parts."

* * *

A couple hours later, Georgie was in the garage, tinkering with some of the tools to see if there was anything she could use to start making things again like when before the world fell apart. There was actually welding tools and she wondered if those were something Jake had picked up along the way in memory of her, or if they belonged to whoever it was that originally owned the home. Either way, she would make good use of everything. Maybe she could even go on a few runs with others and find some pieces of scrap metal no one would need. There were those two houses immediately outside the fence that were nothing but ruins now. She could easily scavenge for something there.

Tristan was sitting on the driveway trying to fix the chain on his bike that had popped off on him. Georgie had tried to help him but he had insisted he wanted to do it himself, but the kid just couldn't seem to get the hang of it. He had been sitting there for ten minutes, off and on, struggling, but Georgie had to admire his determination to see it through without asking for her help.

The sound of shouting from near the gate perked her attention, as Georgie set down a box of nuts and bolts. She darted out of the garage and told Tristan to stay put as she ran down the street to see what the commotion was about. She was coming up just behind Daryl when she saw Glenn and Aiden, Deanna's son, arguing about something.

Deanna ran over with Maggie in tow when they, too, heard the argument starting.

"Aiden! What is going on?"

"This guy's got a problem with the way we do things," Aiden replied smugly. "Why did you let these people in?"

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," Glenn responded calmly.

Aiden turned around and took a swing at Glenn, but Glenn was able to duck and come back up and punch Aiden, instead.

"Aiden, no! That's enough!" As Nicholas jumped on Glenn's back, Deanna continued to shout at them. "I said that is enough!"

Daryl ran up and pulled Nicholas off, and really looked as if he was about to choke the guy out when Rick and Carl came hurrying in from outside the gate.

"Whoa, whoa! Hey, hey, hey!" Rick went straight to Daryl and grabbed him, trying to pull him away. "Let's not do this now."

Michonne got right up in Aiden's face when he stood again. "You want to end up on your ass again?"

"Cool, alright?" he replied.

Daryl began pacing from side to side like a cage animal ready to attack Nicholas again, or Aiden. Rick had to stand in front of him with his hand held out to keep him back, trying to get him to calm down and not be rash. They had a good thing going and didn't need Deanna kicking them all out at this point.

"I want everyone to hear me, okay?" Deanna spoke. "Rick and his people are part of this community now in all ways as equals." She paused, making sure everyone heard her. "_Understood_?"

Aiden shrugged as his mother looked up at him. "Understood."

"All of you turn in your weapons." Deanna gestured to both Aiden and Nicholas. "And you two come talk to me."

Georgie walked up closer, past the elderly couple who had come out of their home to see what the commotion was about, and up behind Daryl, placing a hand on his arm as Deanna turned and looked at Rick.

"I told you I had a job for you," Deanna said to him. "I'd like you to be our constable. That's what you were. That's what you are." She threw a look and a smile to Michonne. "And you, too." Michonne looked surprised while Deanna brought her focus back to Rick. "Will you accept?"

"Okay." Rick nodded, looking at Michonne; as if he would only really do it if she would.

"Yeah, I'm in," Michonne agreed.

Daryl scoffed and shook Georgie off his arm. Stepping back, he picked up his crossbow and walked away back in the direction of their homes. Georgie looked after him, but remained where she was, turning back toward the group assembled before her.

"Thank you," Deanna said to Glenn.

"For what?" He seemed confused.

"For knocking him on his ass."

As Glenn walked off, with Maggie following him, Deanna took her leave of them all, seeing that the gate was closed, while Georgie walked up to Rick and Michonne.

"So you're the new sheriff in town now, huh?" Georgie questioned with a small smile.

He was still processing the information when he nodded at her. "Yeah. Looks like." With a nod to Michonne, he asked, "You think we can do this?"

Michonne stood firm and maybe even a little amused. "I know we can."

"Then we can, and we will."

With a nod of her own head, Michonne walked away from the pair, gesturing for Carl to follow. When the young teen walked off with the swordswoman, Rick and Georgie were left more or less alone in the middle of the road.

"Jake left a note this morning saying he's gonna be at the Infirmary all day. Do you and the kids want to come over for lunch?" She folded her arms and stepped closer to him.

Subconsciously he let his hands touch upon her elbows as if he wanted to draw her in for a hug, or more than that. "I probably shouldn't," he replied. "You got things to work out with your husband, don't you? I would just complicate things."

"Rick."

Rick stepped away to pick up his bag. He looked back at her, clearly suppressing the longing for her he was feeling. "I'll take a rain check."

As Rick walked up the road, Georgie followed a few feet behind, but they both continued in different directions to separate houses.

* * *

That night, Rick came down the stairs in his new constable's uniform and was met by amused faces. He scanned the room for one face in particular, but then remembered Georgie wasn't there. He continued out the double doors from the kitchen, where Daryl was on the porch, as usual, smoking a cigarette.

"We good?" he asked, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

"Yeah. You a cop again?"

Rick sighed, looking down at himself as Carol came out onto the porch from the front door. "I'm trying it on for size."

"So we're staying?" Carol asked.

"I think we can start sleeping in our own homes. Settle in."

"If we get comfortable here, we let our guard down—this place is gonna make us weak."

"Carl said that. But it's not gonna happen," Rick insisted, walking over to the side of the porch, facing Georgie's home. "We won't get weak. That's not in us anymore. We'll make it work." Turning back around, he added, "If they can't make it then we'll just take this place."

Carol and Daryl looked at him, and then each other.

Without another word, Rick walked down the stairs of the porch to take his first nightly patrol around the roads as constable. His pace slowed when he came to Georgie's house, half expecting to find Jake sitting there like the night before, but the porch was empty. Lights were on in the home, though, and he was tempted to sneak up the porch and look into the windows.

Instead, Rick turned right, heading in the direction of the gate. He walked past the old Millers couple's home and turned left with the road, walking by the solar panels and then coming up the road in front of the rowhouses. His boots clicked quietly on the pavement, keeping his head forward as he looked around for anything that might be off. But nothing _was_. It was simply a peaceful, quiet night with no threats from the outside world.

At least not yet.

Making another left, he turned back onto the same road he started on, just at the opposite end, past Aaron and Eric's house where they had a railroad crossing sign on their porch as some kind of decoration that was lost on Rick. Smirking to himself, he looked at the Infirmary on his right and wondered if maybe Jake was in there and Georgie was home alone with Tristan and then maybe he wouldn't feel like he couldn't go to the house to check on her.

However, he didn't need to do that.

When he came back toward the intersection, he spotted a light on coming from Georgie's garage and turned to head over to it. His footsteps were practically soundless as he approached, finding Georgie kneeling on the ground, fixing a greasy bike chain.

"Need any help there, ma'am?" he asked with a smirk.

Georgie looked up at him and had to laugh at what she saw. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Officer Handsome in the flesh."

Rick looked down at his attire again and rocked slightly on the heels of his boots as he nodded. "Reporting for duty."

They smiled at each other and for some reason it felt like a million years since they had done that.

"Tristan's bike chain fell off this afternoon and he insisted on fixing it himself without any help but he ended up making it worse. I don't know how, but he managed to twist it and knot it."

Rick stepped forward and crouched down beside her to get a better look at the bike. "If this was the old world, I'd say just buy a new one."

Georgie rolled her eyes. "I tried loosening the knot up but I pinched my finger and I can't find any oil in this damned garage to grease the chain up."

"How come Jake isn't in here helping?"

Georgie scoffed. "And get his delicate fingers dirty? Clearly, you jest."

Rick looked at her. "Carol mentioned to me how you were playing a part like the rest of us." He covered her hand with his. "What part are you playing?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I know it means keeping my son in my life."

She looked back at him, staring at his bottom lip and wanting to bite down on it and then kiss him until the sun came up, and she probably would have too if she hadn't forced herself to look away in time. Rick didn't let go of her hand right away, though. He lingered there, enjoying his closeness to her.

When she looked back, she stood up and he stood with her.

"You got some grease—" he began to saying, rubbing his thumb across her cheek but frowned when it only smudged it more. "Shit," he mumbled.

Georgie leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. "It's okay. I'll wash it off later."

Rick just stared at her. "What do you miss about before?"

"It's not morning," she replied with a smirk, opening her eyes back to him.

"What do miss about before Alexandria?" he amended.

Becoming serious, Georgie answered, "You." She took a step closer to him. "I miss you. What do _you_ miss?"

"Us."

The door that led into the house clicked opened and they both practically jumped away from each other, expecting someone to walk in on them. No one did, though, but Jake's voice did.

"Georgie. Wrap it up in here, okay? Your dinner's cold."

Georgie glanced toward the door as it shut again and then she looked back at Rick who shoved his hands back into his coat pockets.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't know I was keeping you from sitting down for a family dinner."

Georgie shook her head. "That dinner was made, like, two hours ago. I just didn't eat it when it was ready," she assured. "I couldn't sit down at that table with them and eat like everything was peachy."

"It's not? Peachy, that is."

"More like sour apples." She reached her hand out and touched her fingertips to his lips. "_This_ is peachy."

Removing one hand from his pocket, he hooked his fingers into one of her belt loops and pulled her up against him, while casting a wary eye at the door that led into the house. Slowly, he brought his baby blues back toward her face and smiled a little as he pressed his lips to hers and then let them trail along her jaw and to her ear lobe.

"You let me know when you're done playing pretend here," he whispered.

Pulling his face away from hers, Rick winked and stepped back. Once more, both hands were in his coat pockets. Bidding her goodnight, Rick walked out of the garage and out onto the road.

Unaware that Jake had caught a glimpse of him from one of the windows in the breakfast nook.

A few minutes later, Georgie had recomposed herself and turned off the light in the garage. She headed back inside the house and walked into the kitchen, over to the sink to wash her hands. She looked up, seeing Tristan watching a movie on the TV above the fireplace and it brought a smile to her face. She wasn't even paying attention to Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen table.

"Did you and Constable Grimes have a lovely chat?"

Georgie paused for a moment and looked over at him. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. I saw him leaving."

Georgie wrung her hands try and turned off the faucet. "He saw the light on in the garage and asked if he could help with Tristan's bike chain," she replied, reaching for a paper towel. "There's not much for him to police in this place. Walking around, checking the perimeter, getting cats out of trees. That sort of thing."

"I don't want him coming by here when I'm not around."

"You don't get to impose that—"

"And I don't want him around our son when I'm not around."

"Jake, you're being—"

"And, I don't want _you_ near him when I'm not around." He turned and looked right at her as he spoke those last words. "What will this place think if the good doctor can't keep his family together?"

Georgie snickered. "I could give a shit what this place thinks. All I care about is our son in this arrangement," she said as she balled up the paper towel and tossed it into the waste basket under the sink.

Turning away, Georgie walked out of the kitchen and into the hall toward the stairs. She was halfway up when she heard Jake's footsteps following after her and on instinct she quickened her pace. When he reached the bottom step, she darted up the rest, but he was faster and had a frightening look in his eyes. Before she could reach the second floor, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her down. Georgie fell back onto her ass on the steps and he climbed up over her, grabbing her wrists tightly to keep her there.

"Don't you get smart with me, Georgie."

Her nostrils flared and her chest puffed with defiance as she glared at him. "Get off me."

"You will not disobey me."

"Get off me," she repeated.

He got right in her face. "The chicken wasn't cooked all the way tonight and the salad was shit. You need to do a better job at that. The house was a mess and could've used a decent cleaning. You need to earn your keep around here, sweetie."

"It's a good thing Deanna offered me a job at the Pantry."

"Your first priority is this house and this family before anything else."

"Fuck you."

Jake brought a hand to her neck; just holding it there, not squeezing. "I will." He grinned. "That's gonna be your other priority. And if you fail me, or if you make a fool of me, I will make your death look like an accident."

Georgie paled at his words and went stock still.

"Daddy? What's going on?"

Jack released his hand from Georgie's throat and turned around to look at their son with a smile. "Mommy fell on the stairs. I was just helping her up," he replied. "Why don't you clean up your toys and we'll all do another puzzle together before bed."

Tristan hesitated. His eyes locked onto his mother's and she forced a smile and nodded at him.

"It's okay, honey. I'm just gonna go to the bathroom and Daddy's gonna pick out the puzzle."

"Okay, mom," Tristan replied, looking warily at his dad who smiled back at him still.

As soon as the boy was out of eyesight again, Georgie and Jake looked back at each other and Jake poked a finger roughly into her chest. She swatted it away and he held her hand down in response.

"Don't test me," he warned.

"Did you see that, Jake? Our son isn't stupid. He's gonna put two and two together on his own that you and I under the same roof like this isn't for the better."

Grinding his body against hers, Jake burrowed his face into her neck and whispered into the same ear Rick had whispered in earlier. "The only way you're leaving this house is in a body bag."

Leaning back, Jake released her and stood up. Georgie looked away from him as he continued silently up the stairs to Tristan's room to find a puzzle. She quickly gathered her wits about her and hurried up the stairs and darted into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, she locked it and sank down against it to the floor where she started to shake in both fear and anger.

How could someone she once loved enough to marry and raise a family with have become so evil and terrifying? She'd rather walk into a herd of walkers without any sort of weapon for protection than deal with Jake.

Why didn't she just run away with Tristan to Rick and the others during the day when Jake was away? How could Jake suddenly have this fearful hold over her? She used to tell him, back when they were happily married, that if he ever lay a finger on her or their children that she would castrate him. Why couldn't she gather that same strength now?

A loud bang on the bathroom door shook it and her as she turned her head.

"Don't keep us waiting down there," Jake barked.

Climbing to her feet, Georgie flushed the toilet to make it sound as if she had used it. Turning on the faucet to the sink, she gripped the sides and looked at her reflection.

_Don't be so damn stupid. You're stronger than this! Run, run, run, run, run!_

Looking down at the water going down the drain, Georgie decided she would be sleeping with her hunting knife tonight.

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, Georgie was up and showered and dressed before the sun even rose. She hadn't been able to sleep well after her interaction on the stairs with Jake and all the tension in the air while they put that other damned puzzle together. Tristan had slept in her bed again. It was her only safeguard against keeping Jake away in the night in case he tried anything. She knew he wouldn't be so bold as to do anything with their son right there.

Puttering around downstairs, she briefly looked out the front window and saw Sasha walking up the road toward the Pantry with a bag slung over her shoulder. Turning away from the window, Georgie reheated her chicken dinner from the night before; having cut it up into smaller chunks and adding seasoning to it. Adding it to a salad with lettuce, chopped up tomatoes and walnuts with balsamic vinaigrette, she stored it into a Tupperware container and then made a thermos full of coffee. When Jake came downstairs, dressed for the day, Georgie had a place setting at the table for him and cracked two eggs over a frying pan.

Georgie smiled sweetly at him and he looked at her with a curious eye.

"Someone's in a good mood," he commented.

"I had a lot to think about last night and, you know, you're right. We really should make this work." He just stood there and she gestured to the table. "Sit. I'm making you breakfast. Two eggs, sunny side up, with fried tomato slices, fried mushrooms and some baked beans. Almost close to a traditional English breakfast. Just missing the sausage, unfortunately. Coffee?"

She held up the pot, pouring it into a mug.

"Um, yes." Jake took a seat at the table and watched her as she added a little bit of sugar, remembering just how he used to like it. He took the mug from her when it was offered. "I like this new you," he remarked. "See? I told you it didn't have to be so difficult between us."

"You were right. I was just in this mindset of being so used to living that harsh life out there. I've just been trying to remember how life was before."

"I understand."

"I packed you a lunch, too, with a thermos of coffee to get you through the day at the Infirmary," she informed. "And what do you think of a green bean casserole for dinner? There's a great recipe right on the can and we have all the ingredients already here. I wouldn't need to go ask for anything at the Pantry."

Jake nodded, sipping his coffee. "Sounds good."

"Wonderful," Georgie smiled.

"What are your plans for the day?"

"I'm going to get Tristan up shortly and then, after some breakfast, walk him to his school lessons. Probably see what I could do in the Pantry today. Maybe I could work on fixing Tristan's bike chain. I had no luck last night. I just need oil, I think, to grease the chain."

"Sounds like a full day so far."

"Gotta earn my keep," she said, reiterating what he said to her. "I see that now."

Jake smiled charmingly at her and nodded as he took another sip of coffee. "Good to hear."

After his breakfast was finished and on a plate before him, Georgie took her leave and went upstairs to wake Tristan. She had him get dressed and come downstairs where he hugged his father goodbye as Jake prepared to leave for the Infirmary.

"Don't forget your lunch." She walked over to him and handed him the chicken salad in the Tupperware container and the thermos of coffee.

"Thank you." Leaning, Jake kissed Georgie and smiled as he stepped out the door.

As soon as he was gone, she shivered and wiped her mouth and then dropped the act. She got Tristan some breakfast – a packet of oatmeal with apple slices cut into it – and then gathered up whatever it was he'd need for school. Hand in hand, she walked with him. He had to show her the way, though. She knew the classroom was in a garage somewhere but she didn't know which one. Once they arrived and Georgie became introduced to the woman teaching them and what time their lessons would be over, she headed over to the Pantry where Olivia greeted her and gave her some mindless tasks to do.

Georgie went to work and was there when Carol showed up for supplies to make cookies. It was also when Georgie learned the Monroes were holding a party to welcome all the newcomers.

When two men walked in that she had never met before, Georgie watched Carol and how meek she was presenting herself and decided to eavesdrop when the men asked Carol is she was afraid of guns.

"Mm, no, I well, I had a handgun and I carried a rifle when we were on the outside, but I'm not an expert," Carol was saying. "Not with those, at least."

"Well, my name is Tobin. And whenever you want, I'd be happy to teach you. Just better to be safe than sorry."

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Tobin."

"Thank you, Olivia," Tobin said.

Georgie watched as the men left; neither having greeted her in anyway, as if she were invisible. Olivia and Carol exited the room where the guns were stored and Carol pulled Georgie aside once Olivia was out of eyesight.

"What happened right there?" Carol pointed to a small bruise on Georgie's chest, just above her bosom but below her throat.

On instinct, Georgie touched it and tried to look at it. She remembered Jake poking her hard there with his finger the night before and smiled reassuringly. "Oh, I was trying to fix Jake's bike chain last night. I pulled back my hand too fast and was holding a screwdriver. It came back and hit me," she lied.

Carol narrowed her eyes and then nodded. "Oh, okay. Be careful next time. You don't want to poke an eyeball out." Then she leaned in closer and whispered. "The window back in that gun room. I unlocked it. Before you leave here, make sure it's still unlocked for me."

Georgie moved closer. "What's being planned? I hate feeling so left out of things now."

"Don't worry about. Just make sure that stays unlocked, if you can, and I'll see you tonight at Deanna's party." Carol hugged the younger woman, who reciprocated and then bid her adieu.

A short while later, Georgie handed over a notebook she had been tallying the food stock in to Olivia and announced she had to leave to walk her son home from the school room, but would be back the next day most likely.

Heading back to the house, hand in hand with Tristan, who was telling her what he'd learned, Georgie saw Rick up the road a ways in his constable uniform again, walking side by side with Michonne who was in her own constable uniform as well. She waved at the pair and they waved back and the voice in Georgie's head screamed at her, telling her this was her chance; to take Tristan and run to them and tell them what a sociopathic psycho Jake was revealing himself to be.

But she chickened out, and instead she quietly pined after Rick all the way back into her house.

She spent the rest of the afternoon, making lunch for her and Tristan, finally fixing his bike and then sitting on the porch while he rode it.

A few more times, she had seen Rick walking around and, as always, he waved to her and exchanged a smile with her. During one of those times, she was caught in a daydream about him when Tara and Rosita came walking by, calling out her name.

"Earth to Georgie, come in, over."

Blinking the daydream away, Georgie looked to find both the younger women, standing at the base of the stairs and chuckling.

"Must've been some daydream you were having there, smilin' like a loon," Tara remarked.

"Anything good?" Rosita pressed for details.

"Oh, it was very good," Georgie replied with a laugh. "What's up?"

"You going to the party tonight, right?"

"Huh? Oh—yeah. I am."

"Cool," Tara nodded. "We'll see you there."

Georgie waved goodbye to them as they headed into the house next door. It appeared the group was finally settling in to both homes.

Turning her attention back toward Tristan, she called out to him to put his bike in the garage and come inside. She was going to start making dinner.

She was going to start to pretend again.


	19. A Little Death

**Author's Note: Warning! This chapter contains mature subject matter that might tarnish your virgin sensibilities. Children look away. Dirty-minded individuals, well...as you were. :P**

* * *

"_In spite of all the chaos_

_And all that has come between us, _

_How is it I still find myself _

_Here with you." _

― Au4

* * *

Jake had arrived home while Georgie's green bean casserole was still baking in the oven. She greeted him with a smile and he came over and gave her a kiss, clearly buying into her act. He asked her if she had heard about the party Deanna was throwing and she said she did and was looking forward to meeting the rest of the community. While dinner was finishing in the oven, Jake took the time to take a shower and change into something else. By the time he came back down to the kitchen the casserole was done and he took a seat at the table with Tristan while Georgie scooped out decent portions for all three of them.

Georgie smiled sweetly each time Jake made eyes at her, but on the inside she felt like throwing up.

When dinner was over, she cleared the table and went to wash the dishes, but Jake insisted he would do it, and told her to get ready for the party so they weren't late. And, also, he informed her he had picked out something nice for her to wear.

Curious, Georgie went up to her room and found a purple V-neck shirt, similar to the shirts she had been wearing in the last few days, along with a grey, knee-length pleated skirt and a pair of grey, ballerina flats that were shoe size. There was also a small gold chain necklace with a little charm set out for her to wear as well.

She felt weird that he had been in her room and she looked around, wondering what he had touched or gone through, but nothing looked out of order. But then she knelt down and lifted the mattress on the side she had been sleeping on and stuck her hand within the mattress and the box spring and grew panicked.

Her hunting knife was missing.

She knew she hadn't misplaced it. She had slept with it under her pillow the night before and then shoved it under the mattress when she woke up so Tristan wouldn't get his hands on it.

It had never crossed her mind that Jake would find an opportunity to snoop and steal it. What was even more aggravating is she didn't have the time or opportunity to look for it.

Sighing in frustration, she began to shed the clothes she'd been wearing all day and stepped into the skirt first, zipping it up at the side. Looking down at her legs, she was thankful she had shaved again that morning and gotten rid of the stubble that had been growing back in. Next, she pulled on the shirt over her head and then the necklace, which she found hard to clasp around her neck because she had bitten off her fingernails and had no grip.

Walking over to the dresser, Georgie picked up her brush and pulled her hair out of its ponytail and brushed through her thick locks. Leaving her hair down, she noticed a small tube of unopened lipstick and an unused eyeliner pencil resting on the surface of the dresser. She hadn't worn makeup in so long and wondered if she should bother, but then she thought, hey—it's a party. Why not?

The lipstick wasn't necessarily her color of choice but it was nice enough and the eyeliner added a little something extra to her face.

When she was finished, she headed back downstairs and received a whistle of approval from Jake; not that she gave a shit what he thought, but she was still pretending with him, so she acted as if she was pleased that he liked what he saw.

The three of them – Georgie, Jake and Tristan – made their way out of the house and up to Deanna's. They weren't the last ones to arrive, but they certainly weren't the first. They were greeted right away by their hosts, Deanna and her husband Reg, and then shown to the refreshments. Georgie spotted Rick across the room, nursing a glass of something amber-colored, possibly whiskey, bourbon or scotch was her guess.

She had caught his eye over the rim of his glass and her heart fluttered. It was the simplest of gestures, just a look, but it spoke volumes. By looking at her, she was his. He was staking his claim on her and she enjoyed feeling the desire he had for her a thousand times more than she would ever enjoy feeling from Jake ever again.

Much to her displeasure, she didn't get to interact with Rick right away. Jake kept her preoccupied, moving her around and introducing her to everyone else while she introduced him and Tristan, officially, to her group. Tristan had also taken it upon himself to place a stamp of the letter A on the hands of each newcomer, even Georgie's, because even Tristan's mother was new to Alexandria.

When she greeted Rosita and Abraham she couldn't help but smirk at the long sleeve polo shirt he was wearing. She pulled at his sleeve and snickered. "Nice outfit," she teased.

"Shut up," he replied gruffly, but it was accompanied immediately after with a smile.

Georgie introduced Carl to Tristan not long after and, despite the age difference between the two, she was glad to see they got along and that Carl was letting Tristan tag along with him around the party. When she got to talk with Deanna and Reg again, Reg said he had watched her video and was intrigued by what she said in about having worked with welding and metalwork. He had suggested one of these upcoming days that she walk the perimeter with him and tell him any ideas she might have about how she might improve things or possibly build new things.

She thanked Reg for the opportunity; that she was ready and willing to dive in. She was not afraid of getting her hands dirty.

As the evening progressed, Georgie felt herself getting antsy when Jake finally mentioned to her that he would like to be formally introduced to Rick. Even though both men had met briefly when mother and son had reunited on the road, nothing more had really been said after that because Rick had chosen to give them their space while he went over to talk to the Millers who had been fawning over Judith.

Leading Jake over, Georgie had noticed Carol ducking away as she approached Rick, who was wearing a very nice, white button down shirt and looking as handsome as ever with his facial hair slowing growing back in after only a few days. She still missed the beard, but the stubble was nice, too.

"Rick, you remember my husband, Jake," she reintroduced.

"Hey, good to meet you," Jake greeted, leaning forward to shake Rick's hand. "I wanted to thank you for taking on being our constable. If we keep growing at this rate, we're gonna need even more."

"I hope so."

"You want to come by my office next week? I'll take a look at you." Off Rick's somewhat blank look, Jake added, "And I probably should have said I was a doctor first."

"I think it sounded nice either way," Georgie assured, smiling up at Jake.

"I'm going to get us a refill," Jake announced after a moment, grabbing Rick's glass from him.

"Oh, I can do it," Georgie offered.

"I'm _on_ it," Jake insisted, his tone a little stern.

Folding her arms across her chest, Georgie shook off Jake's presence and smiled at Rick. "Having fun?"

"If I wasn't before, I am now." He eyed her knowingly.

They both smiled and chuckled a little, somewhat nervously. Their group knew they had been involved but had practically ceased contact with each other, and the Alexandrians didn't know the extent of Georgie and Rick's feelings for each other, and only knew that Georgie happened to be Jake's wife and Tristan's mother.

"This place has a pretty amazing view," she commented.

Rick leaned closer toward her. "I prefer the one in front of me."

"No, I'm serious. Take a look." She glanced over her shoulder and gestured to their group; mingling, smiling, laughing. They seemed happy. "Ordinary life like before. Well, _not_ like before."

"No," Rick muttered, sadly.

Georgie's smile faded slightly as she agreed. "Yeah, no. I mean—I mean, it's better. Not out there, in here. You know, everyone here has been through it somehow. _Everyone_. And a lot of things disappeared. But a lot of bullshit went with it. They're all from totally different backgrounds, different places. They never would have even met. And now they're part of each other's lives. They _are_ each other's lives. _We_ are each other's lives." Georgie tilted her head and stared at him. "I'm just saying, we all lost things, but we got something back. It isn't enough, but it's _something_."

Rick looked behind him at Carl and the other teen, Nicholas' son, Mikey, smiling and enjoying himself. The interaction brought a smile to Rick's face and he nodded as he looked back at her. "Yeah, yeah, it's a pretty good view."

"Mom," Tristan suddenly called out as he ran up to her. "Mom, there's no more cookies."

"Oh. Well, I happen to know the cookie maker. She's, uh, she's a good friend of mine," Rick informed, leaning down to the boy's level. "And I might be able to see about her making a whole batch just for you."

Tristan looked down at Rick's hand and seemed perplexed. "Mom, he doesn't have a stamp."

"Oh," Georgie remarked with a smile, looking at Rick.

"Do you want a stamp?" Tristan asked, looking at Rick as well.

"Sure."

Tristan struggled to get the ink pad open and then he pressed his stamp into the ink and pressed the stamp onto the back of Rick's hand, revealing a red letter A. "See? Now you're officially one of us."

"Yeah," Rick smiled.

As Tristan ran off to parts unknown, Georgie and Rick looked after him. When Rick brought his attention back to her, he boldly made the move of grabbing her hand to look at her stamp as well, and there was a significance to it for them, on a deeper level than all the newcomer's being marked. They both knew his children liked her, and now it seemed Tristan had given his approval of Rick, even if the boy didn't know to what extent that meant.

Rick leaned in and spoke quietly for only her ears, "You look beautiful tonight. I mean, I think you're beautiful all the time, but…yeah…" He laughed his compliment off nervously, looking down at their hands again.

"I should—I should see where Jake's gone with our drinks."

"Okay."

"We'll talk later."

"Yeah."

* * *

A short while later, Rick was standing at a kitchen window, staring out and nursing a new drink that he had wound up getting himself because Jake never returned with it and it looked as if Jake was keeping Georgie busy with other people.

Rick had been eyeing Jake off and on during the night and noticed how possessive he seemed of Georgie. His hand was always on her arm, holding it tight, or placed upon the small of her back, leading her from one person to the next. Rick didn't like it, and not that it wasn't him at Georgie's side, but that she seemed like she couldn't be her own person when she was at Jake's side. He seemed to be dictating who they were interacting with.

While he was staring out that window, letting the alcohol numb him around the edges, Georgie finally approached him again, but this time she was holding Judith in her arms.

"That's a pretty good view, too, isn't it?" Georgie questioned, referring to the small courtyard below. She kissed Judith's forehead and then smiled at Rick. "It feels like forever since I've held this little one."

"She and Carl are why I'm still here. I've kept myself going this long because of them," he remarked. As he held Georgie's eye, he added, "And you make this all the more worthwhile."

They were alone in the kitchen then, and Rick took the opportunity to kiss Georgie. It started off chastely on her cheek, and then he moved to her lips. If it wasn't for Judith sandwiched between them, Rick would've pulled Georgie up against him and ravished her mouth with his, onlookers and her husband be damned.

But Judith began to whine. She probably needed a diaper change or was tired. He knew she wasn't hungry. She'd had a bottle a little bit ago, just before Carol had left.

"_That's_ what you worry about?!" they suddenly heard Sasha shouting.

"Shit," Rick muttered.

He ducked out of the kitchen to see what the commotion was about, and Georgie sidled up beside him with Judith still in her arms. They both watched as Sasha pushed through the crowd and stormed out of the house.

"I knew this was gonna happen," Rick muttered, looking over his shoulder at Georgie. "She's not letting go."

"She just needs more time. She lost the man she loved and her brother not long after one another. She's gonna need time to adjust to all this."

Rick turned and looked more fully at Georgie, tilting his head slightly. "Maggie lost her father and sister not even two weeks apart from each other and _she's_ not going off at people."

"Maggie also has Glenn to lean on for support. Sasha doesn't have anyone she feels that close to that can be her shoulder to cry on. She's trying to do this all on her own. I've been there," Georgie spoke. "It's a long and hard journey to take, but she'll come out of it eventually."

The two of them just looked at each other and Rick seemed to understand and agree with what Georgie was saying. When Jake approached them, Rick's jaw clenched involuntarily.

"Hey, I think we should call it a night," Jake suggested.

"I'd like to stay," Georgie insisted.

"Well, it's getting a bit late and I think we should go home. Tristan's eaten enough cookies to keep him up all night long as it is."

"So, take Tristan home and put him to bed." She looked Jake sweetly in the eye and smiled. "This is a party for newcomers. I think it would be rude of me to leave. It's not really that late anyway."

"If you're worried about her getting home, I'll escort her back later," Rick suggested, putting his two cents in.

Jake looked at Rick, then at Georgie. When his eyes lingered down to Judith, he reached a hand down and took her little hand in his. Once more he looked up at Georgie and then nodded. "I suppose that would be okay."

Somehow, Georgie sensed it _wouldn't_ be and a part of her felt anxious because of it. And when she thought of taking the opportunity of being with Rick without Jake nearby to tell him about her issues and feelings about Jake, she wondered how Rick would react and, if things got violent, would Rick be kicked out of Alexandria as a result? She knew others would rather go with him than stay, out of loyalty, and Georgie wanted to think she would go with him, too, if it came down to something like that. But then she had to think of her son, and what was best for him. And she thought about Carl and Judith, and what was best for _them_. She didn't want to put Rick in that position to react drastically. It couldn't be about her. It had to be about everyone else.

Jake gathered up Tristan and said goodbye to the hosts while Maggie came over, wanting a turn at holding Judith. After Georgie handed the baby girl off, Jake returned with Tristan to say goodnight.

"Are you coming back home tonight?" Tristan asked.

Georgie smiled. "Of course I am." She crouched down and embraced her son, placing a big kiss on his cheek. "I'm just gonna visit with my friends and talk to all these new people for a while longer. It's been a long time since mommy's been to a party."

Jake stepped forward and placed a hand on Georgie's hip and then kissed her square on the mouth while throwing a look at Rick, as if telepathically announcing she was his. "See you later, my love." With a wink and a smile, Jake stepped away, placing a hand on Tristan's shoulder and leading them both out of the Monroe residence.

Georgie stood there for a minute, until Jake and Tristan were out of sight and then she turned away slightly so that she was facing Rick. Ducking her head, she discreetly wiped her mouth, which Rick noticed. He rested his left hand on her shoulder and with his right hand he lifted her chin and looked her in the eye.

"Is everything okay there?" he asked, referring to Jake.

"Nothing I can't handle."

That answer didn't sit well with him. "Is he a danger to you and your son?"

Georgie looked down and leaned in to whisper, "He'd never hurt Tristan." When she saw Rick's nostrils begin to flare, she placed a hand on his chest and added. "I've slit the throat of a godforsaken cannibal. If worse comes to worse, I can put down Jake, too." She watched how Rick tensed, his jaw clenching and she took one of his balled up fists in her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You don't need to worry, Rick. I'm pretty damn sure I know what I'm doing."

"You're evading. He's _done_ something. I can tell, and you won't tell _me_."

"He's…_different_ now. He's different from the man I used to know, I'll give you that. I don't know _what_ he's seen or done out there in the real world before he got here, and I'm not sure I _care_ to know, but I _can_ say he hasn't done anything yet," she assured, quietly. "When he does, _if_ he does, I _will_ tell you. You will be the first person I go to. You will _always_ be the first person I go to – for anything."

"I don't like it — this situation. Not one bit." He shook his head. Touching a couple of fingers to her arm, he led her out onto the porch off the dining room. He made sure they were alone out there when he closed the doors behind them. Rick looked up the road at her house where he saw the lights on in the living rooms and kitchen, but couldn't see either Jake or Tristan walking around. "I don't like the way he looks at you," he finally spoke again.

"My husband?"

Rick shook his head. "No. That's not how a husband is supposed to look at his wife; like you're his possession, like he _owns_ you."

Georgie looked up at Rick. Both of them had their hands resting on the porch railing, facing each other. She took half a step closer to him and smiled. One of her fingers from her opposite hand trailed along his belt and up to the first button of his shirt just above the belt buckle. "How _should_ he be looking at me?"

Rick looked down at her, taking half a step closer as well. "Like the amazing, strong and beautiful woman you are."

Another half step closer they moved.

"Is that so?" Georgie blushed in the moonlight.

"Yeah, it is."

She could feel his warm breath hovering inches over her mouth and she wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss him to pieces right there and he seemed to feel the same way. His hand moved off the railing, to her waist and he leaned in to whisper in her ear just as they were interrupted by Carol quietly sneaking up to the porch from below.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized. "Don't mean to interrupt."

Rick backed away from Georgie to look at Carl with a strained smile, but then grew serious. "Is it done?" he asked.

"It is," Carol confirmed.

"Is what done?" Georgie wondered. "Don't leave me out of the loop."

Rick licked his lips. "We snuck out some guns from the Pantry, in case things go south. We need to be prepared and the people here aren't. We know," he gestured between the three of them, "that our group can survive what's out there. But the people here have been living in a daydream, living like what's outside those walls won't ever affect them. It's not just walkers. It's other people, _bad_ people; people that used the world falling apart as an excuse to become evil. Alexandria isn't ready for what might come, so we have to be. And if they won't rise to the challenge, we're gonna take this place."

Carol looked at Georgie. "If and when it comes to that, are you with us?" she asked in utter seriousness.

Georgie nodded, folding her arms over her chest. "You know I am."

Rick nodded as well. He had assumed her answer would be in the affirmative, but he still needed to hear it said. Turning to Carol, he touched her arm. "Hey, can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Maggie has Judith right now, but can you see that both Judith and Carl get home tonight – just look after 'em for a few hours?"

Carol smirked, looking between the pair in front of her. "You know I will," she assured, moving toward the dining room doors. She stopped for a moment and turned around with an impish grin. "Where should I say you two have gone if anyone asks?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "You'll think of something."

Once Carol had slipped back inside the house as if she had never left, Rick quickly ushered Georgie down the stairs to the courtyard and around the front of the rowhouses to avoid the possibility of Jake noticing them walking around on the roads together.

"So where are we going?"

Rick stopped and shook his head. "I really don't know," he chuckled.

Biting her bottom lip, Georgie began to smirk as she stuck her hand into her bra and pulled it back out, revealing a single key. "I have this."

Knitting his brow together, Rick asked, "Where'd you get that?"

"There's two sets of keys to the Pantry. Olivia carries one set with her at all times. The other set is on a hook. I swiped this one, in case we might need it."

"We could've used that earlier." He chuckled and took the key from her. "Carol wouldn't have had to go through that trouble of getting the window unlocked."

"Had I known what was going on, she wouldn't have. After she left and asked me to make sure the window was unlocked, I sorta put two and two together." She closed the gap between their bodies and whispered, as if someone was listening in on them, "We can go there. Everyone's at the party."

Rick nodded, considering. He looked over her head, checking for anyone wandering around outside. Looking back at Georgie, he asked, "You ready to take this next step?"

Georgie snickered. "Rick," she replied, curling a finger into one of his belt loops, "I was ready back at that barn during the storm."

"Alright."

Placing a hand on her back, they jogged the rest of the way to the Pantry like thieves in the night; which, in a sense, they kind of were. Rick shoved the key in the lock and opened the door, shutting it quietly behind them. They avoided turning on any lights as not to draw attention to themselves. The Pantry, as a whole was really just another house that had been refitted as a place for storage, the same way the Infirmary had also been a house that had been refitted with for its medical purpose. The downstairs of the Pantry was strictly storage of goods and supplies, but the upstairs held three bedrooms in case they were needed. Georgie had asked Olivia earlier in the day about it.

Before Rick could lead her upstairs, she made him wait and opened up the hall freezer and pulled out a piece of chocolate and flashed it at him. He grinned as she zipped the bag shut and closed the freezer door.

"Klepto," he teased.

Giggling, Georgie let him take her hand as they hurried up to the second floor together.

They felt like teenagers as his hands immediately encircled her waist and pulled her up against him. It had been so long since either had done anything like this, so it really _was_ like they were teenagers, in how they laughed and fumbled around. They practically burst into the nearest bedroom as their lips fell upon each other's. Their breathing and their heartbeats quickened when Rick grabbed at the bottom of her shirt and lifted it off her head and tossed it over his shoulder. Burrowing his face into her shoulder, he kissed his way up her neck to her ear, biting gently onto her lobe, which elicited a soft moan from her lips and in turn made him grin.

Her fingers clamored at his belt, undoing it as quickly as she could manage. She whipped it free of the loops and dropped it to the ground before returning her hands to undo the buttons of his shirt. Rick shimmied his shoulders to help her help him out of it. As he wrapped his arms around her again, they toppled gracelessly down onto the bed behind them when the back of her knees hit against the mattress and gravity took over.

"Sorry. You okay?" he asked, smiling through the darkness.

Georgie nodded. "Yeah," she replied, leaning her head up to claim his lips.

Taking her hands in his, he raised her arms over her head and pinned her gently there, leisurely grinding against her with a slight swiveling of his hips as they continued to kiss. It felt like their skin was fire, as if they would spontaneously combust from all the sexual tension that had been constantly building only to be constantly suppressed.

Pushing himself up, kneeling between her legs, Rick smiled down at her and then hunched forward slightly to reach his hands up under her skirt and grip her panties. Deliberately slow, He pulled them down her legs and then he backed up off the bed as the panties came down over her knees. Once he had them completely off her, he tossed them over his shoulder and then stood there, unzipping his own pants and pushing them down, revealing a rather simple pair of boxer shorts which caused her to smirk.

They both smirked, actually.

Neither had seen the other this undressed before.

It was new, and exciting and very long overdue.

Leaning down over her, Rick kissed her lips; slowly but hungrily. When he brought his mouth down to her neck and then to the valley between her breasts, he reached a hand around her back and unclasped her bra. He continued to kiss her chest even while he removed her bra and shoved it off the bed. Georgie found herself languishing with each touch of his lips upon any inch of her skin. Her chest heaved up and down with ragged breath as he swirled his tongue around the summit of her breasts, gently biting and nipping at those sensitive buds.

Rick's mind was screaming at him with a millions thoughts and images. Most had the same recurring theme of "holy shit, this is actually happening, sweet Jesus, hallelujah." And the way her fingers ran through his hair and gripped onto the curling ends, massaging his scalp…it was a little bit of heaven.

Neither was saying a word, so it was a slightly awkward silence that was only marred by the sounds of their breathing, moaning and their bodies shifting around on the mattress.

Climbing down her body, Rick lifted her skirt over his head and leaned forward to lay kisses along her inner thighs. With both hands he pulled her legs farther apart to open her up to him. Almost immediately, Georgie arched her back and gripped his head tighter when he swirled his tongue around her clit; gently at first, and then applying some decent pressure. His tongue lapped at her juices that spilled out as if by command and she seized a tighter hold on his hair, which only served to encourage him further. When he moved two fingers within her folds, he felt her muscles within expanding and contracting as he pumped his fingers in and out while maintaining special attention to her sensitive bits.

In no time at all, a little fire began to build at the base of her spine as her nerve endings danced and came alive. Georgie began to cry out a little so she removed one hand from his head and grabbed the pillow under hers to muffle the sounds she was making. She really didn't want her voice to carry throughout all of Alexandria because she knew that if she allowed herself to truly give in, she'd not only alert the community's residents, but every walker within a five mile radius.

As Georgie came, her entire body shuddered and her toes curled.

She didn't know if it had just been that long or if Rick was just that good, but she felt like she would've happily died there and not minded turning into a walker. It would've been worth it.

Removing the pillow from her face, she peaked out from underneath it to see Rick wiping his chin and he climbed back up her body. Pushing the pillow completely away, Georgie sat up and gripped both sides of his face and the pair kissed as she tasted herself on his lips.

"It might not be the best thing to say right now," she muttered, breathily, "but your wife was a _very_ lucky woman. I kinda wish she was here just so I could shake her hand and congratulate her."

Rick snickered and shook his head. "And I probably shouldn't say that I've never tasted sweeter honey," he quipped.

Georgie giggled and shoved at his chest until she was able to pin his back down to the mattress. "Seriously though, I've never received that good before."

She kissed him again and leaned her body against his, feeling his erection prodding at her stomach through the thin material of his boxers as she lowered her body down his. Running a hand down his face in regard to what was about to happen next, Rick looked up at the ceiling as his mind suddenly went completely void of any thought.

Georgie pulled his boxers down over his hips, giving him the freedom he needed. Rick leaned his head up enough to watch as her hair fell down around her face, shielding his view when she began to swirl her tongue around his tip and then take it completely into her mouth. His breathing hitched and his toes began to curl as he felt her warm mouth take him in further. She practically enveloped him as she sucked long and hard, nearly making him see stars. Not being able to see her, though, was driving him nuts. Running his fingers into her hair, he pushed it off her face, parting a view for him. She looked up at him as she began to alternate between fast bobbing motions and long, languid deep-throating.

His groans were ragged with the occasional "fuck" muttered here and there, and he could feel the pressure building in him that was about to explode. He kept mumbling, "I'm gonna, I'm gonna" over and over again, which made her smirk and she refused to stop until he spilled into her mouth. He wanted to hold back, to wait, but he couldn't any longer. He filled her mouth and let out a deep, guttural moan as his hips bucked and his cock spasmed. Rick tossed his head back against the mattress, never seeing if she swallowed or not.

He removed his hands from her hair and covered his face with them as he just laid there, feeling as though his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

What a way to feel alive in a world where death reigned supreme these days.

"I wish I could give you a trophy or something," he joked.

Georgie chuckled as she crawled back up his body to sit down on his lap.

His hands immediately went to her waist to pull her off. "Hey—wait. We should see if they got condoms or something stored downstairs before we—"

Georgie merely smiled in response and pushed his hand away. "No need."

Rick tilted his head. "As much as I love you, I don't think bringing another child into this world right now would be ideal."

"Well, you're in luck, Constable. You can't get me pregnant." She grabbed his hands back up and placed them at the tops of her thighs. "See, I had some complications after I gave birth to Avery. I was hemorrhaging too severely, so the doctor had to perform what is referred to as a peripartum hysterectomy. I can never have another child, ever again. Sadly, you and I will never create life together, as nice as it might've been to see happen someday."

Rick watched as she bit her lip, almost as if she did so to keep it from quivering. Mentioning what she did seemed to bring to light another sad moment in her life she had spent several years coming to terms with.

"I guess we'll have to make do with our three," Rick remarked, referring to Carl, Judith _and_ Tristan.

Georgie just nodded and smiled in response as a few tears stung at her eyes and then rolled down her face. Removing his hands from her legs, he brought them up to her face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. Slowly, he managed to lift himself up so that he was sitting up on the bed with her in his lap. She draped both her legs on either side of his and then wrapped them around his back; the heels of her feet pressing into his bare ass.

Lifting her own ass a little, she put a hand between them and grabbed hold of him, giving it a generous few strokes until he was completely hard again. With a slight swivel of her hips, she guided him inside of her, slowly at first so they could both cherish the initial connection their bodies made.

Then, little by little, they began to pick up the pace.

Rick gripped her hips tightly while she laid one hand on his shoulder while the other hand rested on the mattress behind her, causing her back to arch as he pounded up into her.

The slap of skin and the sound of their moans and mewling were the only sounds echoing in the room.

The faster they went, the rougher they got, and the only way to truly mask the noises they were making was to kiss and let the sounds flood each other's mouths. Sitting up straighter, Georgie wrapped both her arms around Rick's shoulders as she leaned her face against his. The scratchiness of his stubble brushed her cheek in a pleasant way that made her nuzzle him even more as he brought his own face down into her shoulder, kissing up to her neck and then bite gently onto her earlobe.

As he continued to thrust deep into her, with her matching every movement as if their bodies were made for only each other, they lifted their heads and pressed their foreheads together. Rick and Georgie looked into each other's eyes as he began to see stars again. His orgasm was building too quickly for him to hold out for her.

When he released inside of her with his warm, sticky seed, he looked almost apologetic at her, but she didn't seem to mind. She continued to ride him like a cowgirl on a bucking bronco until she got hers, and he just had to ride through his orgasm to make sure she did.

When her orgasm claimed her, her vision blurred for a moment and she let out the most beautiful sigh Rick had ever heard. He held her tight in his arms as her body shook and he practically hissed the way her inner walls clenched around him. It was the most delicious feeling in the world and he wished it could last forever.

The moments that followed had them simply clinging to each other as they came down from their respective highs.

"Oh my _God_," Georgie sighed, laying her head down on his shoulder.

Slowly, he fell back onto the bed with her on top of him and he playfully slapped her ass. When she let out an elated yelp, he chuckled and turned his head to kiss her.

"I love you, woman," he muttered.

As she laid there with her bare breasts pressed against his bare chest, she reveled in just remaining there with him still inside her. She hated the thought that they would soon have to move and leave this bed.

"I love you, too."

They kissed again, slowly and sweetly, and then just closed their eyes for a few moments as their heartbeats slowed back down to a regular speed and their breathing steadied. They didn't feel the need to say anything else at that point. Nothing _needed_ to be said at all.

They both wanted to fall asleep right there, naked in each other's arms, but he knew she would have to get back home to her son to keep Jake out of the loop, and he needed to take a walk around the community at least once before he returned to his own home.

After a few minutes more, they looked at each other and seemed to acknowledge it was time to get back to the parts they were playing. As they picked up their clothes and slipped back into them, they kept throwing glances at each other, which made them smile.

It was so nice to feel this relaxed and happy, after all they had been through together in the last month. And it was funny how, after just shy of a month, they had fallen so in love with each other and were prepared to spend the rest of their lives together and become a family together with their respective children. It was what Georgie definitely wanted. There was just the small issue of Jake to get past.

Once they were dressed, Rick held her face in his hands and kissed her yet again, and then lowered one of his hands down to her backside to give her ass and healthy squeeze. Slapping it for good measure, he elicited a laugh out of her as she ran a hand through her hair so it didn't look too disheveled from all his lusty manhandling which she had enjoyed so much.

Together they fixed the bed so it looked untouched and then opened the window a hair to let the cool breeze in and air the room out so it didn't smell too much like wild jungle sex had just taken place.

As Rick moved toward the bedroom door to leave, he looked back to see Georgie had sat back down on the edge of the mattress and was holding the small bar of chocolate she had swiped earlier and must've dropped at some point in the chaos of them making their way to the bed.

"Post-coitus chocolate?" she offered, breaking the bar in half and handing him his share.

Rick nodded and took it as he sat down beside her.

Both were fully clothed but still lost in thought as they bit into their pieces of chocolate, savoring the taste of something else they hadn't had in a very long time.

Not knowing what to do with the wrapper, Rick took it from her, promising to throw it out for her so no one knew she took it without asking first. They then stood up and left the bedroom, hand in hand. Before they exited the Pantry, Georgie walked over to the key ring she had removed the key she'd stolen from and returned it. Pulling open the front door, Rick set the door on lock and they slipped out quietly, back into the night air.

They walked quietly away from the Pantry and up the sidewalk in front of the rowhouses once again, so that when they reached the upper road, it would appear as if they had just left the Monroe's home from the front door, just in case Jake was still up and keeping an eye out.

Side by side Rick and Georgie walked up the middle of the road, looking up at the Monroe house to see that there were still plenty of people still partying it up. It brought a smile to their lips as they continued quietly along.

As they neared Georgie's home, Rick turned and watched her sigh heavily.

"You don't have to go in."

"I do," she insisted. "For Tristan."

"That excuse is gonna get old really quick," he remarked, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

"I know," she admitted, looking away from him, to the house. "It's just something I need to see through a little while longer. I'm figuring out the right move to make." When she returned her gaze to him, she found he was staring at her still.

"Just don't let him into your bed," he pleaded. "It's not his place anymore." Taking half a step closer to her, he leaned in to added, more quietly, "It's mine."

Georgie smiled. "Yeah, I think you proved that tonight."

Grinning from ear to ear, Rick was about to say something further when the porch light went on and the front door opened, revealing Jake standing there with his arms folded.

"Hey Rick," Jake called out. "Thanks for walking Georgie safely home. You truly are a gentleman. Now I'm definitely certain you'll make a great constable here."

Rick clenched his jaw a little and nodded toward the other man, waving at him politely. "Thank you. It's a pleasure to be of service," he smiled back.

Georgie caught Rick's eye and they shared a knowing look. "Thank you for walking me home, Rick," she spoke, wrapping her arms around herself. After a slight pause, she turned from him and headed up the stairs to the porch, flashing Jake a lovely smile as she ducked inside the house.

Rick watched after her and then focused his gaze on Jake. "You got a wonderful wife there, Jake. I hope you know how lucky you are," he called out, chewing the inside of his lip as he studied the way Jake looked back at him.

It was as if there was an unspoken territory marking going on between two alpha dogs. Both men could sense there was an underlying dislike for the other, and that they were each simply keeping up the pretense for civility's sake.

"Oh, don't worry," Jake smiled. "I know exactly what I got."

When Jake turned and disappeared inside the house, Rick's smile fell and a scowl took up residence on his face instead.

_You lay a hand on her, and I'll kill you_, Rick thought.

Taking a moment, he eventually moved along down the road to his own home, letting his mind wander back to the Pantry's upstairs bedroom where Georgie made him feel human again — like a _man_ again. As he walked up the stairs to the porch, smiling to himself, he peered inside and saw Carol seated inside watching a movie with Carl, Noah, Glenn and Maggie while Judith slept nearby in the Pack-n-Play crib.

Rick smiled even more.

Maybe things really _could_ be great here.

* * *

That night, Jake said nothing to Georgie and simply went to bed after they turned off the downstairs lights for the night. He went to his bedroom, and she to hers. Tristan was back sleeping in his own room, which was fine with Georgie because she needed to be alone with her thoughts of the evening spent with Rick and how he made her feel whole again.

She decided _that_ had been her best night's sleep to date. She dreamt, and it was a good dream. She had been walking along a deserted road with Rick and they were carrying weapons like before. Only this time, not only was Carl and Judith with them, but so was Tristan. There were no walkers following them. There was no threat felt in her dream. They were simply walking along together as a family and they were happy.

By morning, Georgie had showered and changed into new clothes for the day and found breakfast was already waiting for her instead that Jake had prepared. Apparently she had slept in and Jake had already taken Tristan to his school lessons, but suggested they go together to pick their son up afterward. Georgie agreed it was a nice idea to do together, maintaining her civil and sweet act with him.

She wanted to butter him up as much as she could without having to perform any wifely duties, long enough where she didn't feel like he was a threat to her or Tristan, and that she could wean their son away from him.

On the walk from their house to the garage classroom, Georgie spotted Rick coming from the direction of the gate, wearing his constable uniform again, and instantly her stomach was aflutter with butterflies.

"Hey, Rick," she called out.

He stopped when he noticed her and they both smiled when she held up her hand, which showed a slightly smudged letter A that Tristan had stamped on her hand the night before. Rick held up his hand as well to show off his own stamp.

In a way it was as if they were publically declaring how they felt about each other, right under Jake's nose.

As Georgie and Jake continued on, she was unaware at the look Rick was giving Jake or that his hand had subconsciously gone to the small revolver hidden underneath the back of his jacket. She was also unaware just how prepared Rick was to use the gun on Jake if the opportunity should arise.

* * *

**Author's Note #2: Hope you enjoyed the smut! xoxo**


	20. Do Something

**Author's Note: Prepare for some aggressive drama! R&amp;R! xoxo**

* * *

"_He is a man of courage who does not run away, but remains at his post and fights against the enemy." _― Socrates

* * *

In the five days since the party at Deanna's, everyone seemed to finally be assimilating smoothly into the community. They had fallen into daily routines akin to life before, and started their new jobs and gotten to know the others a lot more. Georgie had even met with Reg one afternoon to help him weld one of the inside panels of the wall that looked iffy and they discussed, over lunch in his kitchen, the possibility of adding a second layer of wall around the community's perimeter, just to be better safe than sorry.

That same afternoon, after his morning lessons, Tristan had asked to paint at the art easel in the living room, so Georgie told him to either take his shirt off so he didn't get paint all over it or to go up into his father's closet to find an old T-shirt to put over his own clothes like an art smock.

George had set up the paints and poured water into a cup and laid some paper towels down near the easel so it would be easy for Tristan to clean his brushes as he went and then she just sat there waiting for him to come back downstairs.

She was waiting at the front window, holding a cup of coffee in her hands, watching Carl taking Judith for a walk in her stroller and when the young teen happened to look up at her house and see her, he smiled and waved. Georgie waved back as well and then turned back toward the kitchen, wondering what was taking Tristan so long.

"Tris!" she called up. "Did you find a shirt? You can just take off what you're wearing if you can't find anything.

Worried that he wasn't answering, she had gone upstairs and peered into Jake's room but found it empty, so she went into Tristan's room where she found him lying on his bed, crying into his pillow.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked as she sat down on the edge of his bed, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

"I don't want to paint anymore," he mumbled.

"Alright, that's fine. You don't have to. But please tell me what's got you so upset."

"I miss my friends."

"From before?"

Tristan nodded his head and turned his face to the side. "My friends from the big house that were in Cub Scouts with me," he replied with tears staining his face. "They were killed by those bad men, weren't they?"

Georgie knew her son had been there and heard the gunshots, but had gotten away from that house in Greensboro with the aid of some woman named Melissa that had been part of the group he'd been traveling with. She had also been sure he had not been actual witness to the murders that happened there. But Tristan wasn't dumb. He knew what a dark place the world had become. He had seen walkers and what they were capable of, and apparently he was just as aware of what regular men could do to each other. So, there was no sense in lying to him about what really happened.

"Yes, honey," she nodded. "I'm sorry. Those men that were shooting in that house killed your friends, and I'm so sorry. They were very bad men and I'm just glad you got away when you did."

Tristan was shaking suddenly in fear and Georgie leaned down over him to pull him up into her arms and hold him close.

"Tristan, is something else bothering you about that? Did you see what those bad men did?"

Tristan shook his head. "I didn't see them kill anyone. I just heard it," he replied. "But I saw what one of them was wearing."

"What was he wearing?"

"A red, Atlanta Braves baseball cap," he said, burying his face into his mother's chest. "I didn't see his face, though. It was too dark. But I heard him yelling at the others. They asked what to do about the people sleeping in the beds, and he said to just shoot 'em all."

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms tighter around him and kissed the top of his head. "You don't have to worry about that now. You're safe with me here. And there are plenty of people who will help keep you safe."

Tristan was silent for a few moments before looking up at his mother. "Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I go ride my bike?"

Georgie smiled comfortingly. "Yeah, you can."

Climbing off his bed, he slowly walked out of his room and left Georgie rather perplexed about his sudden burst of fear and worry. She wondered why it hit him out of the blue. What had reminded him of it? Was it something that was always on his mind that he was trying to deal with and had been good at hiding?

In the days that had followed, her son seemed the same; nervous and quiet. For the most part, during the day, he was generally in a happy mood, but it faded when Jake returned home from the Infirmary. Tristan would go up to his room and spend most of the evenings playing up there instead of watching a movie downstairs or wanting to put together a puzzle again.

Jake seemed oblivious to the change in their son, but not to her. He kept making eyes at her, and finding excuses to keep her close to home instead of going off to help out at the Pantry or visit with her friends. He would run his hands along her arms, give her ass a playful squeeze or place kisses on her shoulder or face in general. She just barely suppressed the urge to gag each time. He had been rather pleasant with her, with no real hint of the man he'd shown himself to truly be in her first days in the house, but she could still sense that man was there, waiting to jump out from under the surface at any moment. So, Georgie was always on edge, although she somehow maintained the appearance of a loving, attentive wife.

That fifth day after the party, in the morning before Jake walked off toward the Infirmary, he had pinned Georgie against the fridge and began kissing her neck and running his hands up under her shirt in an attempt to fondle her breasts.

"Jake, not now," she whined. "I'm not ready."

"And I'm tired of waiting."

"And I'm not ready," she stressed, shoving him off her a little rougher than she had intended.

He wasn't happy with the gesture and retaliated by slapping her face so hard it brought tears to her eyes. Georgie would have launched herself at him then but she turned when she noticed Tristan standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking nervously between his parents.

"Hey, buddy," Jake began to smile, turning on the charm as he stepped toward their son.

Tristan backed away and hurried out of the room. The sound of the door to the garage opening and shutting echoed throughout the house and Jake turned back at Georgie with hate in his eyes.

"This is your fault. You're not doing your job," he growled, stepping up to her. "If you would just do what's expected of you, our son wouldn't have to see me get angry. I can't have my son see me that way."

"It's not my fault you've become an asshole."

Jake responded by grabbing her neck with his fingers and holding tightly. Just as she thought she was going to start suffocating, he released his grip and stepped away. Grabbing his satchel off the kitchen island, he glared back at her.

"We'll continue this when I get home later. Don't think of trying anything in the meantime."

With that, he stormed out of the house and Georgie was left in stunned silence.

On the downside, her act had slipped and he had clearly seen right through to her defiance and disgust for him. But, on the upside, he was revealing himself to their son and it would be very easy to coax her son out of the house without upsetting the stability she wanted him to have just as much as Jake claimed to also want. But, before she could make that final move, she needed to know that Tristan was okay with other things, like what he'd experienced in Greensboro. She knew there was something more to it that he wasn't telling her and she didn't want whatever it was to eat away at him.

The sudden cacophony of metal and other heavy objects clattering in the garage grabbed her attention.

Georgie ran into the garage and found her tools all over the place and Tristan's bike chain was ripped back off and thrown out into the driveway. But, more importantly, Tristan had run off somewhere. Looking around, she sighed, unable to see where he went, but she took comfort in that he couldn't be far and he couldn't have gone outside the walls. Someone would run into and keep an eye on him. Whatever his issue was, she figured he was trying to handle it in his own way. She remembered what it was like to be a kid, and she wanted to let him get out whatever it was that was bothering him without pressuring him to say it.

While she was attempting to clean up the mess, footsteps along the road behind her house and the other two houses belonging to the group echoed on the pavement. A moment later, Rick appeared, once more in his constable's uniform.

"Hey," he greeted and then noticed the destruction.

"Hey," Georgie replied with half a smirk.

"What happened?"

"Someone got angry and took it out on my tools and my son's bike."

"Who?"

Georgie didn't want to say Tristan. She didn't want to make her son feel bad if word got back to him that Rick or his dad knew what he'd done. There was clearly enough on the boy's mind than being worried about being yelled at for being destructive.

"I don't know," she lied. "It's okay though. Aside from the bike chain, nothing's actually broken."

Rick stepped inside the garage and crouched down at the mess of tools scattered all over the floor. "Did _you_ do this?" he asked with a curious eye.

"No, sadly, this isn't _my_ handiwork."

"So, someone just came in here and did this?"

"Yep," she nodded, avoiding his eye, but she could tell he wasn't completely buying what she was selling.

"Was it Jake?"

Georgie laughed. "Ha, no. He never comes in here."

"Well, I doubt you have any enemies here," Rick commented. Standing up, he added, with a smile, "Too bad there isn't somebody who could look into this kind of thing." When Georgie grinned back at him, he took a few steps closer to her and placed his hands on her elbows. "I'll ask around."

"No, you don't have to."

"Yeah, I know."

Georgie rolled her eyes. "Okay, so you find the person who did this and then what?" she asked playfully.

Rick shrugged. "Some kind of consequences. You ever heard about the broken window theory?" Georgie shook her head. "Boils down to this—you keep the windows intact, you keep society intact."

"This is just tools thrown around and a broken bike chain, Rick."

"Yeah. Yeah. I got to do something today."

Stepping closer to him, Georgie reached out a hand and grabbed onto his belt. "You gotta do some_thing _or…"

Rick grinned, catching her drift. "Hmm, well, it _has_ been four and a half very long days since I last did some_thing_," he replied, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing his lips hungrily to hers.

She threw her arms around his shoulder and sighed into his mouth and every bad thought or worry about Jake and Tristan, respectively, momentarily slipped her mind. Moving a hand to the side of his face, she leaned her head back to stare at him.

"Where's Tristan?"

"It makes me sound like a terrible mother, but I don't know," she shrugged.

Rick nodded. "You're not a terrible mother," he insisted. Leaning back in, he nuzzled her cheek and placed a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

That simple gesture set her skin on fire.

"Can you spare some time to investigate, officer?" she asked with a giggle, while slowly leading him to the door to the house.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I think I can."

Looking over his shoulder, he then let her take his hand and drag him inside the house.

* * *

Carol heard a noise come from downstairs. Aside from Judith, who she had just put down for a nap, she was the only one in the house at the moment, so her curiosity was considerably peaked. Coming down the stairs, she noticed the storage closet under the stairs was slightly ajar. Reaching the bottom step, she whipped the door open and found Tristan standing inside, rifling through some food supplies.

Furrowing her brow, she grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't mean to be harsh with the boy. She knew he had been through his own horrors in his young life, but she wasn't keen on him snooping around, even though he _was_ Georgie's son.

"Do you have any more cookies?" he wondered. "The ones you made for the party?"

Carol frowned. "They're gone. Now you should go home."

"My house doesn't have power. I can't watch a movie and my bike is broken so I can't ride it and I hate the puzzles my dad has us put together. I hate doing them. I hate my stuff. It's stupid stuff." Tristan kicked the door and pouted.

Looking as if he was going to cry, Carol shut the storage room door and led him toward the kitchen. "Tristan, does you mom and dad know you're here?"

Tristan shook his head. "Dad's at the Infirmary. Mom's at home but I kinda got mad and ran away to be here because you make good cookies and cookies always make me feel happy. Can you make more cookies?"

"You're nine years old. What made you so mad you ran away from home?"

Tristan clammed up and evaded the question. "Maybe if you showed me how to make them, I could do it myself."

Carol saw there was something there in the boy that he really didn't want to talk about and was deflecting. "You want cookies?" she asked. When he nodded, she led him to the front door. "Alright. You're gonna have to steal the chocolate from Olivia. And then you're gonna get an extra bar for me. And if you get caught or you say anything, you're not gonna like what happens to you. Now hurry up. Daylight's a-wasting."

Shooing Tristan out the front door, Carol closed it behind her and then moved around to the living room to watch as he slouched his shoulders and hurried down the stairs. Narrowing her eyes, she wondered what the hell was going on in that boy's head. When he mentioned his father and the puzzle he seemed so nervous and angry.

What did that boy have to be so angry about?

* * *

In Georgie's bedroom, Rick was lying on the bed, wearing only a bedsheet draped over his lower half as he watched Georgie standing up and reaching for her underwear. He watched the way her curls bounced around her shoulders with the slightest movement, but mostly his eyes were just transfixed on the curve of her ass and the being able to glimpse her overall naked form in daylight.

To him, she was a thing of beauty to behold, and being with her made him feel whole again. He didn't feel broken or angry or scared. He felt love and hope. For a little while, his negative thoughts stopped screaming at him, and he owed that to her.

"You're like a goddess," he muttered.

Georgie looked over her shoulder at him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Don't get cheesy on me." Smiling she climbed back onto bed, wearing only her panties, as she sat down on his bedsheet-covered lap.

"You shouldn't sit there. You'll get me going again."

"What a travesty that would be," she quipped.

In response, he pinched her ass and sat up to muffled her delighted squeal by kissing her senseless. He bent his head down to press his face into the crook of her neck and suckle softly at her skin. She cooed at the gestured and brought her hands up to his hair, wanting nothing more than to go another round with him.

"I would like to stay here longer, but I should probably continue my rounds and then go check on Carl and Judith," he informed, kissing her lips once more before she climbed off his lap.

"Yeah, I should stop being such a delinquent mother and go look for where Tristan's gotten off to and then make him some lunch."

"Is everything alright with him?" Rick asked as he reached down for his boxers and slid them on. He turned and looked at Georgie. "He's the one that made the mess in the garage, isn't he?"

"Well, he did go into the garage and then I heard the clatter, but I never actually saw him do it. But if I'm being honest—"

"—Please do—"

"—Then I'd say, yes, it was Tristan."

"Why would he throw your tools around and why would he ruin his bike? Is he mad at you?"

Georgie shook her head. "No, not at me," she replied, getting off the bed to put the rest of her clothes back on. "A few days ago he was feeling sad about his friends that were killed in Greensboro and I think there was something else that was bothering him then, but he wouldn't say. And, then today—"

"What about today?" Rick was standing, too, now, pulling on his white T-shirt. Throwing a concerned glance over at her, he picked up his dress shirt and tie that was part of his uniform.

"He might've seen the tail end of Jake and me arguing."

"Arguing about what? Arguing _how_?" Rick walked around to her side of the bed as he slipped into his dress shirt. His face became serious as he stood in front of her.

Georgie took his tie from him as he began buttoning up his shirt, and wrapped it around his neck to tie it for him. "I told you I can handle myself and I can handle Jake," she said, while he tucked his shirt into his pants. "You have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

She took a moment to look up from his tie and up at his face instead. "Okay, I am eighty to ninety percent positive I know what I'm doing."

"I don't like those percentages."

"I also told you that you would be the first to know if anything happens, and I promise you can still hold me to that." Patting his chest, she gestured to the floor. "Don't forget your belt."

"I really don't care for this situation, Georgie. I want you where I can see you in case something bad happens. I want to be able to protect you."

She smiled, as she finished pulling on the rest of her clothes. Stepping back up to him, she cupped his stubbly face in her hands and kissed him. "You can't be the knight in shining armor twenty-four seven, Rick."

"I can if you let me."

"Well, maybe I don't want to be some damsel in distress who needs rescuing from the monsters twenty-four seven."

Rick stared at her and shook his head. "Are you _trying_ to frustrate me, 'cause it's working?" Despite his seriousness, he smiled.

"Just put your belt on, Officer Grimes." Giving him a peck on the lips, Georgie pulled her hair into a ponytail. "I'll meet you downstairs."

As soon as she was in the kitchen, she grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and waited a few moments until Rick descended the stairs, wearing his constable's jacket as well now. She felt the butterflies in her stomach dance around again at the mere sight of him. He was so beautiful and ruggedly handsome that it took her breath away.

"You're probably gonna skip lunch and you just built up an appetite, so take this with you and promise you'll eat it," Georgie said, handing him the apple.

Taking the fruit, he nodded at her. "Let me at least help you clean up the garage before I head out."

Georgie nodded. "Alright."

The pair headed into the garage and went about picking up the scattered tools. When Rick passed the broken bike chain over to her, their hands grazed each other and both smiled.

But the smiles faded when the sound of her front door slamming echoed all the way into the garage.

"Georgie!"

It was Jake.

"In the garage! With Rick!"

There was silence, followed by, "Oh. Hey Rick!"

A moment later, Jake appeared in the doorway and looked between the pair.

"You're home early," Georgie commented.

"Yeah, uh, what's going on in here?" Jake gestured to all the tools.

"I was just walking by and accidentally spooked Georgie while she was cleaning some of her tools. I made her drop them on accident and I was just helping her clean up," Rick lied with a smile on his face.

"Oh, okay. Well, it was nice seeing you, Rick."

"You, too, Jake." Both men nodded at each other and when Jake was out of sight, Rick stepped forward up to Georgie. "Do you need me to stay? Because I will."

"I know you will, but you can go. I'll be fine," she assured. Leaning in, they kissed. "I'll see you later, alligator."

Rick snickered and shook his head as he backed out of the garage. "In a while, crocodile."

Georgie smiled and chuckled slightly as he disappeared from her sight. When she set the broken bike chain on the work bench, she then sighed and looked up toward the door into the house. Once she was in the kitchen, she saw that Jake was nursing a beer he had removed from the fridge.

"If you're looking to argue with me, don't bother."

Jake glared at her. "What did I tell you about being alone with him?"

"Um…I don't care what you told me and I'm tired of pretending I care at all about you anymore. It truly is exhausting."

Chugging the rest of his beer in practically one gulp, Jake shook his head. "Wrong," he muttered. He pulled open the fridge door and frowned. "Why is it warm in this fridge?"

"Because the power grid's down right now," she replied. "Why are you drinking midday anyway? Why are you home?"

"This is my home. I don't need an excuse to come and go as I please. I don't need your permission."

Georgie narrowed her eyes. "Are you drunk? You only had one beer."

"I might've spiked my coffee thermos this morning with some whiskey."

"Classy, Jake. _Really_ classy."

Abruptly, Jake threw the empty beer bottle at Georgie. It missed her by a few inches and smashed into the cupboards behind her head. She jumped and realized that if he weren't drunk, his aim would've been spot on and she would've probably been knocked out cold by that bottle.

"Clean that up," he demanded.

"You're the one that threw it like a petulant child and broke it. _You _clean it up."

Stalking up to her, Jake grabbed her ponytail and dragged her out of the room and up the stairs. She retaliated by kicking at him and trying to scratch him, but his hold on her hair hurt like hell, causing her to cry out in pain. He led her upstairs to his bedroom and shoved her forward, shutting the door behind them and locking it.

"Time for you to earn you keep, my love."

As she ran for the door, he grabbed her arm and spun her back toward the bed. She flopped backward onto it and kicked him in the stomach when he neared.

"That was _very_ rude," he remarked.

And then he punched her in the face so hard that everything went black.

* * *

A short while later, Rick was back at home, out of his uniform; wearing only the white T-shirt. He had been standing at the sink, finishing the apple Georgie had given him and was smiling back to himself. His mind was thinking about earlier in the day, holding her in his arms in her bed and the way she was able to move so well he nearly got a Charlie horse.

A knocked at the front door snapped him out of his reverie and he set the apple core in the sink. When he neared the door, he was able to see that it was Jake standing on the other side before he even opened it.

"Hey, Rick, just having a beer. Thought I'd bring you one," Jake announced once the door was open, "for helping my wife today."

"Um, I'm good, but thanks."

"Come on," he insisted. "Don't tell me you're still on duty."

"Kind of always am, you know?"

"Not at Deanna's party." Jake walked right in and leaned against one of the pillars, after peering at the inside of the house. He smiled, holding up his beer and the extra he brought. "I saw you. You had some, right?"

"You know, I wish I could have helped out more today. The garage was still in a bit of disarray when I left, but I had to get going and Georgie…she, uh…she said she had a handle of things."

"Yeah, she's got a handle on a lot of things. She always was a multitasker."

Rick just stared at Jake. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry. Heard you lost your wife." When Rick's jaw clenched and he nodded, Jake actually seemed sympathetic. "Georgie and I — we've lost things. Did she tell your our daughter was killed? She won't tell me how it happened, but I was an idiot and walked out. I know that. Other things we're just fighting like hell to hold on to. Everything you people have been through — I don't know if you see that."

"We do," Rick nodded.

Jake smiled and took a swig of his beer. "Bring your kids in for a checkup. I know I offered you one, but they really should come in. They were out there a while, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Jake."

Taking a step forward, Jake stood with his face mere inches from Rick's. "Let's be friends, man. We kind of have to be, right?"

"Yeah, we do."

"So we will." Jake offered Rick his hand and when both men shook, he added, "I'll see you, Rick."

After roughly patting Rick on the shoulder, Jake walked out of the house. Turning, Rick grabbed the door and shut it slowly; his jaw momentarily clenching and unclenching. Just underneath the surface he was actually shaking slightly. He couldn't stand Jake and having the man approach him like he had got under his skin.

Looking down at his left hand, his mind began to reel, as he twirled his wedding ring around his finger.

* * *

Slightly later, there was another knock at the front door. However, this time it was Carol in the kitchen and it was Tristan at the door. The kid was standing there, proudly holding up a baggie with two small chocolate bars in it. Peering outside, to make sure no one had seen, Carol took the baggie and carted the boy inside the house with her.

She proceeded in showing Tristan how she made the cookies. She did all the work and he just watched, possibly committing the directions to memory. Once they were ready to bake, Carol put them into the oven and turned around to look at him.

"After these are done, that's it. No more cookies. You got it?"

"Yeah," Tristan nodded.

"I hope you're not expecting to leave with more than half of these. You barely did half the work," Carol commented as she began to put the mixing bowls and utensils into the sink under the window.

"Were you always a good cook?"

Carol ignored the question and ran the water onto a dishcloth, and then handed it to him. "Wipe the counter."

Tristan sighed. "Did you like it? Cooking? You know, before."

"I was good at it," she replied. "It distracted me. It made me forget when I was sad."

"Sometimes when I get sad, I break stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" she asked and Tristan shrugged. "The puzzles you put together with your dad? Your _bike chain_, maybe?" Rick had mentioned in passing, when he returned home earlier, that he had just helped Georgie tidy up her garage because 'someone' had thrown tools around and broken the chain off Tristan's bike. "Did you break it?" The boy seemed sad as he nodded. Frowning, Carol pressed further. "Why? Why are you here?"

"I saw you leaving at the party. I snuck out, too, for a while and watched you climb into the window and steal those guns," he evaded. "_Why_ did you steal the guns?" When he saw Carol tensed and seemed mad, he looked at her with his big blue eyes and shook his head. "You don't have to worry. I didn't tell anyone you stole them. I just wanna know _why_ you took them."

Carol sighed and stared at him for a moment, considering her options. "I took them because sometimes you need to protect yourself."

Tristan accepted her answer and nodded. "Can I have a gun?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Why do you want one?" she wondered, becoming a little concerned.

"It's not for me."

"Who's it for?" When he went still and clammed up, Carol repeated herself. "Tristan, who's it for?"

Instead of answering, Tristan ran out of the house with Carol calling after him.

She was fully concerned now. If the gun wasn't for him, it _had_ to be for Georgie, his mother. And why else would Georgie need a gun but to protect herself? And why did Georgie need to protect herself? And why was Tristan worried that his mother needed to protect herself?

Not content to leave these questions go unanswered, and her mind going crazy with the negative thoughts popping into her head, Carol sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island, tapping her fingers along the granite countertop.

Georgie was a strong woman. She could protect herself if she needed to. Carol had seen it plenty of times. She never really even needed a gun on the outside. She always preferred her hunting knife anyway, and Georgie still had that with her if a situation arose where she needed to defend herself.

Right?

Swiveling around, Carol looked out the double doors, out at the porch and clamped her hands together between her thighs.

After about twenty minutes of just sitting there, lost in thought and letting her worries mount, Carol couldn't sit back anymore. She got to her feet and she walked out the front door, allowing her feet to lead her to Georgie's home. Ascending the stairs, to the porch, she took momentary pause before knocking on the door.

After a second knock, the door opened a crack and revealed Jake standing there. Carol was able to see that the shades were drawn on all the windows and inside the house was dark.

"Hi. Carol, right?"

Carol nodded. "That's right."

"Do you need something? Not feeling well?"

"I was with Tristan earlier. Is he okay?"

Jake frowned, leaning closer in an almost threatening way. "Why _wouldn't_ he be?"

Carol forced a smile. "Can I talk to Georgie?" she pressed, feeling anxious.

"Not a good time. She's sleeping."

"Jake, _don't_," she said as he closed the door in her face.

* * *

Carol walked back home, slowly. Her head was pounding, but not from a headache. It was from her heart beating so loudly, it reverberated all through her body echoed the loudest in her head. She was very worried for Georgie and no longer wanted her friend in that house. She could just sense something was amiss, but she needed to talk it over with Rick first. He deserved to know her fears.

Walking back into the house, she shut the door behind her and found Rick downstairs in the dining room.

"I think Jake's hitting Georgie. And maybe Tristan, too."

Rick went still. He could feel his nerve endings come alive with anger. His face twitched and he slowly closed the gap in the distance between him and Carol.

"You know this how? Did Tristan tell you?"

"He didn't have to."

Rick shook his head. "No. Georgie told me she would come to me first if something like this happened."

"We don't know the extent of her relationship with Jake before the outbreak. She says it was good, happy. But I said the same things to people when they asked how Ed and I were doing. This could be something that's been going on for years with them, or maybe it's a recent development. I don't know, Rick. But I do know something is wrong and something needs to be done."

Rick's nostrils flared and he balled his fists at his sides.

Georgie was two doors down and here he was, just standing around. He should be running up the street and bursting through into that house. But he had to do this right. He needed to trust that whatever Georgie was dealing with, she was okay and she was holding her own. He said he had to trust that she knew what she was doing, but he wasn't sure that she did. Rick was fairly certain now that whatever was going on, Georgie had gotten in over her head and he just needed her to tell him. He needed her to give him the word.

"Rick. I know how this is gonna go with Jake," Carol continued as he looked out the window near the front door that looked in the direction of Georgie's house. "There's only one way it _can_ go."

Rick turned around and looked at her.

"You're gonna have to kill him."

He was prepared to do just that, right then and there, when they both heard the screams for help.

At first, Rick's initial thought was Georgie, but then he recognized Glenn's voice on wafting through the air, loud enough to wake the dead. Grabbing his constable jacket, Rick ran outside; down the porch and up the road, following where the shouting was coming from. As he reached the Infirmary, he saw Tara being brought there and Eugene saying something about them needing "the doctor". Maggie had run up and seen what was going on and offered to go get Jake, who wasn't in the Infirmary already.

Suddenly there was chaos. Rick was trying to piece together what was going on. Everyone was talking at him all at once but eventually he gathered that both Aiden and Noah were dead. Before he heard from Glenn what happened, Rick went into the Infirmary to check on Tara with his own eyes, just as Maggie returned with Jake lagging behind her. When both men saw each other, it took everything in Rick's power not to attack him.

But, right now, as much as Rick hated to admit it, they needed Jake to help take care of Tara.

Rick then went round to the Monroe family, to express his condolences for their son and would look into what happened. When he returned to the Infirmary, Glenn was sitting on the front porch, in a daze, when Rick asked for an account of what went down.

Apparently, there had been an explosion. Aiden accidentally shot at a walker with a grenade attached to it, and he had been impaled. Glenn and Nicholas tried to help free him, but there was no saving him. They were forced to leave him behind to get eaten by walkers. Tara was injured from the blast and knocked unconscious. Then, in an attempt to get safely away, Glenn and Noah had found themselves stuck in one side of a revolving door while Nicholas was in another side. Nicholas didn't wait and ran off, and the door opened enough for the walkers to get Noah. They pulled him out and ate him right in front of Glenn.

Sitting there, practically catatonic, Rick had to assure Glenn everything was alright, that he did the best he could, but also that these people in Alexandria weren't prepared and they didn't need to abide by their rules. They needed to take matters into their own hands, basically. Glenn, however, insisted that they were the people in Alexandria now, that Noah believed in this place and they had to make it work.

Rick, unconvinced, and with his mind wandering back to Georgie, stood up and wandered back home.

* * *

At that same moment, Georgie was stirring awake.

When her eyes opened, there was a pounding in her head. She looked around for her window and found it not where it was supposed to be. When she did find a window, she saw it was dark out and then she realized she wasn't in her bedroom.

Slowly, and achingly, she sat up.

Placing a hand to the side of her head, Georgie winced. There was a considerable goose egg between her left eye and her temple. Her cheekbone was sore as well, and then she remembered where she was.

She was in Jake's bedroom.

As she tried standing up off the bed, she saw she wasn't wearing pants anymore. They were a few feet away on the ground and a sob escaped her lips from out of nowhere.

"_Time for you to earn you keep, my love."_

Jake had spoken those words and they were ringing in her head.

"Oh, God," she muttered, putting two and two together about what had happened while she was unconscious.

Wandering to the bedroom door, she reached for the knob and turned it, but it didn't budge. It wasn't locked, but something on the other side was barricading her in, so she banged on the door. "Hey! Let me out!"

When no answer came, Georgie turned around and looked toward the closet and for some reason felt compelled to search in there for something that could help her plight. Pulling open the closet door, she stepped inside and turned on the light. There was nothing on the floor, except for a few pairs of shoes. On the hangers were Jake's clothes. That was nothing out of the ordinary. But, there _was_ a shelf up top with a few boxes.

Standing on tiptoe, her legs buckled and she hunched forward from pain in her pelvic region.

"You motherfucker," she grumbled, referring to Jake.

Once more, she stood on tiptoe, and reached up, ignoring her soreness. She dragged her hands along the shelf, reaching for anything when a ray of hope appeared. She knew what she was touching was her hunting knife. Scrambling for it with her fingers, she tried pulling it back toward her. In the process, though, she knocked her hand into one of the boxes and it came down on her head and fell to the ground.

It didn't hurt, though. It was just a shoebox that felt as if only paper or something equally as lightweight was inside. Her knife fell to the ground as well, so she crouched down to pick it up.

But as she did that, she noticed something sticking out of the fallen box.

Something red.

Pulling off the lid, Georgie narrowed her gaze and found herself looking at a red, Atlanta Braves baseball cap.

Georgie paled.

She remembered something her son had said a couple of days ago.

"_I didn't see them kill anyone. I just heard it. But I saw what one of them was wearing."_

"_What was he wearing?"_

"_A red, Atlanta Braves baseball cap."_

"Fucking Christ," Georgie gasped.

Suddenly panting, Georgie clamored to her feet, gripping both her knife and the hat. Sauntering back into the bedroom, she set both items down on the bed and then picked up her pants and slipped them on. She was sore but she was desperate to get out of Jake's bedroom so, after picking the knife and hat back up, she ran at the door and slammed the side of her body against it.

Whatever was barricading her in budged slightly. Taking a few steps back, and wincing all the way, she repeated the process one more time and reveled when the barrier gave.

She practically tumbled out into the upstairs hall.

All the lights seemed to still be out in the house, though she knew the power was back up because she was able to turn on that closet light. Taking the stairs gingerly one at a time, she made her way to the first floor.

"Tristan?" she called out. "Tristan, honey, where are you?"

No answer.

Ducking out into the garage, she felt dizzy, but kept her eyes on the prize, and that prize was finding her son and getting the hell out of the house.

The garage door was open, so she stepped out into the night air and turned left; walking up the road behind her house and the group's two, where all the garages backed out onto. Stumbling over her own two she eventually reached Rick's house and slipped inside the back door and into the back hallway.

"Rick?" she called out weakly.

Christ, her head was pounding.

She stepped out into the kitchen and saw through the windowpanes of the double doors that Rick was standing out on the porch with Carol.

Overcome with happiness to see them there, Georgie shouted, "Rick!"

Both Rick and Carol turned. From upstairs she could hear Judith suddenly cry and footsteps coming from upstairs as well.

"Georgie?" she heard Carl call out to her from behind her on the stairs.

Before she could turn around to look at the young teen, the front door opened up and in rushed Rick, rushing up to her side as her legs gave out from underneath her. She had no idea what she looked like, but judging from the looks on his and Carol's face, she was probably not going to win a beauty pageant anytime soon.

She felt tired suddenly as Rick sank to the ground with her. She noticed Carol out the corner of her eye running over to the sink and returning with a damp cloth which was soon pressed to the left side of her head where the goose egg was.

"What happened?" Carl was questioned, worry in his voice.

"Carl, just go upstairs please," Carol insisted. "_Please_."

Rick was pulling Georgie into his lap, cradling her as Carol cleaned her head wound.

"Did Jake do this to you?" he demanded, fear and rage in his bright blue eyes.

Georgie closed her eyes. "Yeah," she mumbled. "But don't—don't do anything yet."

"I'm gonna kill him," Rick sneered. "I'm gonna _kill_ him."

"Don't. Not yet," she breathed, feeling so very tired. "I gotta tell you about the hat."

Georgie held the baseball cap up, but that's when she surrendered to unconsciousness a second time.


	21. Broken

**Author's Note: Yeah, so...I suck at writing fight scenes. You have been warned, haha. xoxo**

* * *

"_Don't be afraid_

_I've taken my beating_

_I've shared what I've made_

_I'm strong on the surface_

_Not all the way through_

_I've never been perfect_

_But neither have you"_

— Linkin Park

* * *

The moment Georgie blacked out again, Rick panicked, thinking the worst had just happened.

"No, no, no, no, no. Georgie." Pulling her more into his lap, he smoothed her hair out of her face as Carol reached forward and placed two fingers to Georgie's neck to check for a pulse.

"She's okay," Carol assured with a nod of her head. "She's just unconscious."

Rick was shaking with rage as he clamored to his feet, pulling Georgie's body up into his arms with Carol's assistance. "We can't take her to the Infirmary. Jake's there. We can't let him near her."

"It's alright, Rick. I've been where she is. I can look after her." Carol placed a hand on Rick's arm and got him to look at her for a moment. "Let's put her on a bed upstairs."

"Yeah. Okay."

Rick was beside himself. There were too many things he was feeling all at once that his mind felt as though it would explode. Climbing the stairs with Carol behind him, sort of as a spotter, they made it to the second floor and Carol opened up the door to Rick's bedroom. Carl appeared in the hallway watching as Rick carried Georgie in and laid her gently down on his bed. The young teen came over to the doorway with concern on his face.

"Is she gonna be okay?"

Carol turned around and nodded. "She just needs to rest right now."

"Dad? Tell me what I can do to help."

Rick was hovering over Georgie's body as he cast a glance at his son. He held the boy's gaze for a moment and then said, "Just stay with Judith right now, okay? If I need you for anything, I'll come get you." He could see that Carl was just as worried about Georgie as he and Carol were. "Hey—she's gonna be alright, y'hear?"

"She's not gonna die, is she?"

"No," Rick replied adamantly. "She's gonna make it through. She's just been hurt and she's sleeping it off. Now—go be with your sister."

Hesitating at first, Carl nodded obediently and stepped away from the room.

Rick turned and looked toward Carol. "What do I do?" he asked, completely forlorn.

Carol frowned. "Well, first we just make Georgie comfortable; let her sleep this off like you told Carl. She'll come to soon enough. But, you need to be serious about what I told you earlier, about Jake." She looked Rick in the eye. "He needs to die and you need to be the one to do it. Normally, I would say this is something Georgie should do for herself, but she's in no condition to right now. But you can't go into this half-cocked, either. You gotta play this right."

Rick nodded, focusing on a random spot on the floor beside the bed. His lips were pursed and his mouth twitched again. The rage in him wasn't subsiding and he needed an outlet for it. He tried channeling it into his love and concern for Georgie, which only made him angrier about her situation.

Then, a new concern hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Shit," he muttered. "Where's Tristan?"

"He came back here earlier, and I was able to talk to him about what he thought was happening," Carol informed. "He told me he saw Jake putting his hand around Georgie's neck this morning. He got scared and upset and that's why he made a mess of the garage and broke his bike chain." She looked at Rick; at how he just watched Georgie's sleeping form while she spoke. "He said he hadn't been sure his dad was a bad man until then. He said the reason he asked me for a gun was so that his dad wouldn't hurt his mom the way he hurt his friends."

Rick knitted his brow together, turned his head and looked up at Carol. "Wait—what?"

Carol reached for the red cap Georgie was still somehow gripping in her hands. "Tristan told me about this hat already. He said that before he escaped that house in Greensboro with that woman Melissa, that he had seen four men. He never saw their faces, but one of them was wearing a red baseball cap with the Atlanta Braves logo. The man in the red cap was the leader of these bad men and was the one who gave the orders to kill everyone." Carol felt her heart ache. "Rick, all those bodies we found in that room in the basement of that house, all those people, those _children _— we know they were killed execution-style. And we know that it had to have been done while they slept. All that dried blood on the underside of every mattress and cushion. The man in the red hat gave the order for them all to die. Whether he pulled the trigger or not, he is responsible for the death all of those lives."

"It was Jake, wasn't it; in the hat?"

"A few days ago, Tristan wanted to paint so Georgie told him to go look through his father's closet for an old T-shirt to wear over his clothes. He got curious and decided to snoop a little, like any kid would. He found a shoebox on the shelf and got it down and looked inside. When he saw the hat, it upset him and it made him think about the man who had his friends killed." Carol walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, taking one of Georgie's hands in hers. "It wasn't until Tristan saw his dad about to hurt his mother this morning that Tristan knew his dad and the man in the red hat had to be the same person."

Rick remained silent, just listening to Carol speak. He was barely maintaining his composure. His body still shook with rage, his mouth still twitched and his nostrils flared. But tears were also stinging his eyes, having to hear these things and see with his own eyes what had been done to Georgie.

"Tristan's just a kid, and he survived so long out on the road with good people that took him in. He saw the horrors of the outside world, the same as Carl has. He thought his parents were dead. He thought, aside from the people he was with, that he was alone. And now, to learn his own father is the one who killed the people he cared about, the people who protected him and kept him safe — to realize his father is more of a monster than the walkers are; I can't imagine how traumatizing it's gotta be for him." She looked at Rick, and repeated, "He's just a kid."

"Where is he right now? Do you know?"

Carol nodded. "He's next door, eating cookies and watching a movie with Rosita and Abraham. I asked them to keep an eye on him."

"Good, good. That—that's good." Taking a few steadying breaths, Rick looked toward the doorway. "Carl!" he called out.

A door clicked open down the hall and footsteps followed. A moment later, his son appeared.

"Yeah?" Carl asked, resting his hands on either side of the doorframe.

"I want you to go next door and tell Abraham that he's not to let Tristan out of his sight, and if Jake comes by, he's not to let him in under any circumstance. And he, _especially_, is not to let Jake leave with Tristan _or_ know Georgie is here. Actually, don't even mention to Abraham that we have Georgie here."

Carl nodded. "Okay," he agreed, turning to leave.

"And, Carl: stay there a while. I think Tristan could benefit from having someone closer to his own age there with him."

"Alright, dad."

"There should hopefully be some cookies there, for your trouble," Carol added with a small smile.

Carl shrugged. "It's no trouble," he insisted. "If it helps Georgie and Tristan, then I'm cool with it."

Rick smiled and ushered his son over to him. When Carl was near enough, Rick reached his arms out and pulled his son into a hug. He didn't say anything to his son, but it was expressed that he was proud of him nonetheless.

Once Carl had left, Rick leaned forward and brushed a hand along the side of Georgie's face that wasn't bruised.

"You and I have a special bond with her," Carol said quietly. "Next to you and Daryl, she's become my best friend. We haven't known her as long as we've known each other and we haven't been through enough with her that we have together, you and I, but that doesn't really matter. She helped me get back to you and the group. She was a shoulder to lean on when I needed it." Carol smirked a little. "She was kind of like this angel that appeared on the road, like a sign of things to come; that things could get better." Reaching her hand across Georgie to take a hold of Rick's, she gave it a squeeze. "She came into our lives when we needed her most, and went above and beyond to help us when she didn't have to. Now it's time we repay the favor."

Rick nodded. Then, after a moment of silence, he squeezed Carol's hand back. "I love her, you know." He turned and held Carol's gaze. "I love her."

Carol smiled. "I know you do. I've seen how you looked at her and talked to her; the way you wanted her at your side on supply runs or found little excuses to touch her arm or hold her hand." Her smile brightened even more. "I think you've known for a while how you feel about her. We're all a little broken inside and she makes you feel more together."

Rick nodded again, swallowing down a lump in his throat and threatening the tears lining his eyes with pain of death if they fell as he blinked them back. "She does that," he agreed.

"With Aiden and Noah dead, things are already going to be tense here. People are going to be on edge and we need to keep our cool. We still don't know the extent of what Jake's done to Georgie and we won't know until she wakes back up and can tell us, so, until then, you need to stay clear of Jake and not act rashly. We have to do this the right way."

Rick removed his hand from Carol's and returned it to Georgie's instead. "Easier said than done."

"I'm serious, Rick. I want Jake dead just as much as you, but you can't do it tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. But it _will_ be done. It _has_ to be done."

"Will you stay with her?" Rick looked at Carol, but gestured to Georgie with a nod of his head.

"You know I will."

"I need to…take a walk," he remarked. "Think about things."

Carol nodded. "Okay."

Rick stood up and paused for a moment before walking toward the door.

"Rick," Carol spoke before he left.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Yeah?"

"Georgie's strong. She has a fire in her," she commented. "Whatever happened today, I don't think she took it without putting up a fight first. I wish I had had that fire in me a few years ago." Rick looked back at her a little more and she added, "If walkers hadn't gotten Ed, I wouldn't be standing here right now."

Rick smirked ruefully. "Yeah, you would," he replied with a slight nod.

Stepping out of his bedroom, he made his way downstairs as if he was walking through a haze. He could feel the veins throughout his body pulsing and his hairs were standing on end. His insides felt twisted and as he walked out of the house and down the porch, his hands balled up into fists. His thoughts were focused on all the ways he wanted to kill Jake and how he really just wanted to see the bastard ripped apart. Maybe he could knock _him_ out cold and drag him outside the walls and let walkers have their way with him. But, no, then Rick wouldn't have the same satisfaction as he would if he did the job with his own bare hands.

As he walked up the road, he began to think about when Jake had paid him a drunken visit earlier in the day and he wondered if that had been before or after he'd hurt Georgie. Her head wound didn't seem too recent. It was at least a few hours old and that made Rick even madder; to think Jake could've had the balls to come visit him and suggest they be friends while he was privately hurting Georgie.

Jake had to die. There was no way around it in Rick's eyes.

He completely ignored looking at Georgie's house this time. No, actually, it wasn't Georgie's house. She didn't belong there. It was Jake's house. Either way, Rick wouldn't look at it.

He reached the pond, spotting a toy boat floating on the water with a red balloon tied to it.

It was a curious thing.

"Hey, Rick."

Rick's eyes lifted from the boat and stared straight ahead, not looking at the person that the voice belonged to.

Jake slowly approached, coming from the direction of the Infirmary and smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Rick." He got nothing and took a step closer. "You okay, man?"

Rick just stood there.

He had removed the gun from the back of his pants and held it hidden behind his right leg, doing everything possible to maintain control on his anger.

Slowly, he turned and glared daggers at a befuddled Jake. "Keep walking," he warned; his voice even and his gaze deadly.

Jake still didn't seem to get it. "What? What are you—?" When he peered more through the darkness at Rick, and how Rick looked back at him, Jake leaned back and finally understood the meaning.

Not saying another word, Jake turned and walked back to his house.

Rick closed his eyes and exhaled.

* * *

Rick relieved Carol later that night, after returning home from walking the inside perimeter of the community. She gave him a side hug and kissed his temple in a sisterly fashion, leaving him alone in his bedroom with a still sleeping Georgie.

Closing the door for privacy, Rick removed his constable jacket and tossed it onto a chair. He removed his watch and set it on the bedside table before kicking off his boots as quietly as possible. Walking around to the opposite side of the bed from Georgie, Rick sat down. Choosing to leave his pants on, he pulled his white T-shirt off over his head and tossed it to the ground before swinging his legs up onto the mattress to lie down beside her with his hands folded on his chest.

For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. He closed his eyes, listening to the sound of his own breathing, mingled with the sound of Georgie's. Despite everything that had happened, it was a wonderful sound to him; to hear her asleep beside him, in his bed. Well, it was _their_ bed now, really. That was enough to make him feel a little better.

Turning onto his side, Rick faced Georgie and watched her for the longest time. He rested his head on one arm while the other reached out and wrapped around Georgie's waist.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, letting their breathing soothe him to sleep.

However, as soon as he fell asleep, it felt like several hours passed by in the blink of an eye. It didn't help that he had a restless sleep. His mind was too caught up with everything going on.

Sitting up, he looked down at Georgie and held a hand out in front of her nose just to make sure she was still breathing. He got scared for a moment when she seemed too still for his liking. But, she was okay. She was breathing, just still in a deep sleep.

Grabbing his watch off the bedside table, he looked at the time.

It was just after seven in the morning, so he really _hadn't_ gotten much sleep after all; maybe just a couple of hours.

Looking toward the bedroom windows, he watched how the morning light filtered into the room; how the rays of light danced with particles of dust. He then hunched forward and picked up his white T-shirt, putting it back on before standing up. Walking around the bed, he grabbed up his boots and slipped them on before heading to his closet and pulling out a greyish dress shirt. Pulling the shirt on, he buttoned it up and tucked it in before adding his tie to the mix. While he stared at his reflection in the mirror to make sure the tie was straight, he heard Georgie stir.

"Wow," she mumbled.

Rick was at her side in an instant. "Hey. Easy there." Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he cupped the good side of her face with his hand. "How you feeling?"

Georgie blinked away the sleep from her eyes and sought out his face. "You want the God's honest truth or the children's version?" she rasped.

"God's honest."

She sighed. "I feel like I was punched in the head hard enough to knock me out cold for several hours and then to wake up in the dark and find I was only half dressed." Georgie blinked tears away and she brought her hands up to her mouth to muffle the sob that slipped out. "Oh, wait, that's what happened," she tried to jest, but her attempt at smiling through it failed miserably.

Rick's chin quivered with a mix of anger, sadness and horror. "Did he—?" He didn't even know if he could finish that question. "Did he—did Jake ra—?" Rick couldn't get the detestable words out.

Georgie caught his eye and nodded. The words didn't need to be spoken. She knew what he was trying to ask.

"I think so," she admitted, her eyes a bit distant. "He said it was time for me to earn my keep. Then he threw me to the bed and I kicked him in the stomach, but that's when he knocked me out." She focused her gaze on Rick again and could see he was seething with rage, so she lifted a hand to his face and held it there. As he leaned in to the gesture, she continued, having promised him the truth. "I woke up and my pants were missing and I was so sore. I just put two and two together." Georgie sighed. "I'm just glad I wasn't awake for it. It'll be easier to pretend it didn't happen."

"I'm so sorry," Rick shook his head. "I should've been there. I should've _stayed_."

"You couldn't have known what was about to happen," she assured. "Please don't carry that burden on your shoulders. You carry enough."

Rick tried to smile for her, to be brave for her. "Too late." Georgie smiled back a little as well and he leaned down to kiss her. Brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, he leaned back and studied her face; focusing on the welt on the side of her head. "When did it happen?"

Georgie looked away, remorsefully.

"_Georgie_," he pressed.

She sighed. "Pretty much right after you left."

Tears stung at his eyes and he shook his head, beating himself up over it again. "I _knew_ it. I _knew_ I should've stayed."

"Rick, _please_. There's only one person at fault here and it sure as hell ain't either of us."

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Rick watched as she used him to pull herself upright. His hands were at her shoulders immediately to help her, urging her to take it slow and easy. As they stared at each other, they both leaned in and embraced. Georgie rested the good side of her face down on his shoulder and brushed her nose against his neck, inhaling his natural scent and, for a moment, every bad thing disappeared.

"I have to tell you something about Jake," she whispered. "It's gotta do with that hat I found. I think I had it with me when I got here last night."

"You did. Carol took it. But you don't gotta say anything. We already know about what Jake did. Tristan told Carol about what happened in Greensboro; about the man in the red, Atlanta Braves hat and how he found the hat in the closet," Rick informed. "He also said he saw Jake with his hands around your neck yesterday morning and that's why he made a mess in the garage and why he wanted a gun from Carol."

"Oh, God," she cried. "I couldn't find Jake when I woke up last night. Do you know if he's okay?"

"He's fine," Rick assured. "Carol sent him next door. Abraham and Rosita kept an eye on him and then I sent Carl there, too, to be a friend. I told them not to let Jake in if he came looking for Tristan."

"Did he? Did Jake come looking for Tristan?"

Rick shook his head. "I doubt it. I think if he had, there would've been some commotion and I would've heard it. But there was nothing." After a moment, he continued. "When we were together yesterday afternoon, you never said anything about Jake trying to choke you. You had the opportunity. Why didn't you take it? You said you would come to me if anything happened."

"I know, but it didn't seem like enough of a reason at the time. I thought I could handle him." Georgie pulled back and looked down between them. "I was wrong," she shrugged, and started to cry. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, now," Rick shushed her, pulling her back against his chest and running a hand along the back of her head. "It's alright. You came to me when you could. That's what matters."

"I did," she agreed. "He had a chair barricading his bedroom door to keep me in. I had to throw my body against it to get out. It was dark and there was no one home so I ran here, or at least I tried running. I was so dizzy." Georgie touched a hand to her welt. "I think I might be concussed."

"How're you feeling now?"

"A little better. My head isn't pounding as much."

"That's good," he nodded. "Let me go get you some aspirin."

"No," she muttered, grabbing his hands and keeping him there with her. "Can you just stay here a while longer?"

Rick watched her face; the way her eyes looked up at him with contrasting mix of dejection and hope. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah, of course."

Wrapping his arms around her waist he helped scoot her over a few inches on the mattress so he could lie down beside her. They both laid on their right sides, him spooning her like they had in the RV the night before they arrived to Alexandria, but this time both his arms were still wrapped around her so he could hold her close. Rick buried his face into her neck and craned his head to kiss the skin just behind her ear. The sound of her sighing with contentment was like music to him.

"You're gonna kill him, aren't you?" she said after a few moments of silence had fallen between them.

"Yes."

"I need to be there when it happens."

"I know."

Rick felt her moving her hands out in front of her so he lifted his head to look over his shoulder. With her right hand she was pulling her wedding band off and then held it up. He was aware of the significance in the gesture. She was cutting her ties with Jake once and for all.

"I know just what to do with this thing," she commented.

* * *

A short time later, Rick finally left the house. He found that Carol was already downstairs, looking after Judith and asked her to keep an eye on Georgie, who was conscious again, but still resting in bed. Once outside the house, he made the short trek next door where he found Eugene in the kitchen making oatmeal for both Carl and Tristan, both of whom had stayed the night in the second house.

"When you're done with breakfast, had back to the main house with Carol, alright?" Rick said. He looked first to his son, and then to Tristan. "You're mom's there. She'd like to see you."

Tristan looked up with a small smile. "Okay."

With a nod to Carl, and then over to Eugene as a sort of hello, Rick turned around and walked out of the second house down off its porch.

He avoided looking at Jake's house again, in case he was there, because Rick felt that if he saw the other man, he'd run at him and kill him then and there. He also walked right on by the Infirmary, in case _that_ was where Jake was, for the same reason. He just needed to avoid Jake altogether for now.

Instead, he went to the Monroe residence to further express his condolences and also talk to Deanna about the issue with Jake. He she deserved to know about the situation at hand before he did anything about it. She wasn't at home, though. Reg said she was at the graves of the four community members who had died a month before Rick's group arrived. There would be no grave for her son, so that was clearly all she had as a physical place to mourn her loss.

Approaching the woman, Rick called out quietly, "I'm sorry for what happened. How are you holding up?"

"I'm not."

It was now or never. "We have a problem with Jake."

Deanna sighed. "It was only a matter of time."

"Wait—you _knew_ he'd become a problem?"

She nodded. "I'd hoped he would be good for this place; that he was different than the others he arrived here with."

"Well, he's _not_ good for this place and he _never_ will. Do you even _know_ what's done? What he's capable of _doing_?"

"Jake's a surgeon."

Rick scoffed. "He's a glorified pediatrician."

"He's still a doctor. He's saved lives," Deanna remarked. She turned to look at Rick with tears in her eyes. "He might be saving Tara's life."

"Trust me, he's taken more lives than he's saved," Rick asserted. "Do you _know_ what he did yesterday, before the possibility of saving Tara's life was even an option? Do you?" He paused, holding her gaze. "He beat and raped Georgie."

Deanna looked somewhat horrified, but she forced herself to maintain a resolute disposition. "I'm—I'm sorry." She was aware that Rick felt a great affection for Georgie and this was a personal issue for him as well.

"We have to stop him."

"How?"

Rick couldn't come right out and say he was going to kill Jake. He had to offer up a more attractive solution she'd rather hear. "We separate them. We tell him that's how it'll be from now on."

Deanna stepped closer to him, her arms folded. "What happens when he doesn't want to do that?"

"It's not his choice."

"So what happens?" Deanna insisted.

Rick clenched his jaw. He knew she wasn't stupid. She knew what he really wanted to do. "I kill him," he answered. "_We_ kill him."

"We don't kill people," she remarked. "This is civilization, Rick."

He got closer to her face, getting a bit angry with her. "Warning someone to stop or _die_ — that _is_ civilized nowadays.

"Oh," she scoffed at him.

"So—what? So we just let a murderer and a rapist walk freely around here? What if he goes after Georgie again and I'm not there for her? We if he _kills_ her?"

"No, that wouldn't happen, because we would exile him if it came anywhere close to that."

"We do that, we don't know when he comes back and what he does to her. He came here with three people who caused problems and who you exiled. What if Jake finds them again and brings them back here?" Rick narrowed his gaze at Deanna. "Letting him go makes this place vulnerable. You really want to wait till someone in that _tower_ has to take care of it? And that's if we're lucky."

"We are _not_ executing anyone," she snapped at him. "Don't ever suggest it again. That sort of thinking doesn't belong in here."

"People _die_ now, Deanna. They _do_. There's times like this you can decide who and when. Or it can be decided for you."

"It already was. I wouldn't kill you. I'd just send you away."

Without another word, Deanna walked away, leaving Rick alone at the graves.

He clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Alright," he said to himself. "I'll kill him outside your precious walls, then."

* * *

None too happy after his conversation with Deanna, Rick headed home to find Carol standing around nervously.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Well, I was busy changing Judith's diaper and I heard the back door open and close so, as soon as I could, I went to see who had come or gone, but I didn't see anyone. And then I went to check on Georgie only to find out she wasn't in bed." Carol sighed. "Carl's run off somewhere and I didn't want to leave Tristan and Judith here alone. I think she went back to the house. I think she might be planning to kill Jake on her own."

Rick's face fell. He didn't even wait for Carol to say anything else.

Running out the front door, he darted between both the group's homes and toward the back alley road and didn't stop until he reached the garage of Jake's house.

The garage door was open and Georgie was sitting inside on a stool, holding a blowtorch in one hand and her wedding ring in the other.

"Georgie."

She looked up and attempted a smile. "Hey. I'm sorry I took off without saying anything."

"S'alright," he assured, stepping into the garage. "Why are you back here? You should still be resting."

"I've rested enough, and I had some things I needed to get."

Rick gestured to her hands. "Like a blowtorch? You planning on setting this house on fire?"

"I was planning on setting _something_ on fire."

"Jake?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, but no." Setting the blowtorch down on the workbench, she stuffed the ring in her pocket and looked down at the ground. "Carol told me that Noah died yesterday."

"Yeah."

"He was a sweet kid. He didn't deserve to go out like that. And Tara…" she trailed, shaking her head. "As much as it pains me to say, she's in good hands with Jake. He was always a very good doctor. That's the only thing about him that hasn't changed."

Rick nodded. "I talked to Deanna about all this. She's not keen on the whole killing Jake idea."

Georgie smirked. "I'm not surprised. She's a politician to the bone. She'd never sully her reputation in this community or get her hands dirty with doing what needs to be done." She winced just then, placing a hand to her pelvic bone.

Walking directly up to her with concern, Rick took her hand in his and pushed it away. Discreetly, he pushed down the waist of her pants down off her hips and saw some fresh bruising. Looking back up at her, all Rick could do was pull Georgie into his arms and hold her still.

"Deanna's not gonna have a say in what's done with Jake. It's not up to her. This is our decision to make," he whispered. "Shit's gonna have to change around here. And the people here are gonna change with it or get left behind."

"You're not wrong," she muttered. "They don't get what it's like out there, if they were really ever out there. You can't know, not living in a bubble like this." Georgie stepped back from Rick, nodding to herself. She picked the blowtorch back up and gripped it tight. "Bubbles pop eventually."

As she turned to head inside of the house, Rick stepped forward to stop her. "I don't think going in there's a good idea."

"It's alright. I've already been inside. Jake's not here. He's at the Infirmary."

"He could come back."

Georgie shrugged. "What's he gonna do that he hasn't already done to me?"

Rick frowned at her. "He could _kill_ you," he stated.

"He can _try_."

Georgie turned completely away from Rick and entered the house, leaving him behind in the garage.

Frustrated with just about everything at the moment, Rick walked out of the garage and out onto the road on the side of the house. When he reached the intersection, he stopped and looked around at all the residents of Alexandria going about their lives. He looked to his right, toward his house and saw Tristan playing on the front lawn, by himself, doing cartwheels like every kid his age should be doing. Everyone was acting as if everything was peachy keen. But everything _wasn't_ peachy keen. Everything was—

"Sour apples," Rick mumbled.

Turning to look up at Jake's house, he couldn't leave Georgie alone in there. Not again.

Running up to the stairs and up onto the porch, he threw the door open and found her in the process of throwing plates and bowls at the cupboards while she cried.

This was how she was trying to deal with what was done to her.

When she saw Rick standing there, she walked up to him and threw her arms around his neck and he just held her tightly for what felt like forever. Together they sank down on the blue sofa and he cupped her face in his hands. Leaning her head closer to him, Rick kissed the bump on her head and then her lips.

Leaning back, with a smile, he asked, "Why destroy the dinnerware when you can destroy the _nightmare_?"

Georgie laughed. "Did you just make that up all on your own?" she teased.

"I did," he nodded. "Did you like it?"

She simply looked right at him and grazed his stubbly face with her fingertips. "I like everything about you."

Smiling in response, Rick pressed his forehead to hers. "What say you and I get whatever else it is you might need from this place and then you finally come home with me for good?" he suggested. "You go upstairs and get clothes, both yours and Tristan's, maybe a couple of toys for him. I'll stay down here and keep an eye out."

Georgie nodded. "Okay."

Standing up together, he watched as she winced from the pain she still felt in her groin and pelvic area. He gave both her hands a squeeze and nuzzled his face against hers.

"Don't rush things. Take it slow."

"Slow and steady wins the race? Something like that?" she quipped.

Rick smirked. "Yeah," he replied, leaning in once more to kiss her. "It's gonna get better for us now. I promise."

"I can't wait," she whispered.

"Rick. What are you doing here?"

Both of them turned and saw Jake standing at the open front door with an eerie smile on his lips.

"Jake," Georgie uttered, as if she had just swallowed a mouthful of cod liver oil.

The tall, blonde man stepped further inside the house, eyeing up Rick. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"You listen to _me_, Jake," she continued, but was unceremoniously ignored by him.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, Rick."

"No," Georgie shook her head.

Rick stood his ground, but allowed Georgie to confront her husband on her own terms, so long as he was there in case Jake tried anything against her. On the outside, he was cool as a cucumber, but on the inside Rick was a raging sea, and looking for any reason to tear Jake a new one.

"Excuse me?" Jake questioned, shifting his attention to Georgie. He took a step in her direction and Rick did the same.

"You need to leave." She balled her fists at her side, wishing she hadn't set the blowtorch down on the kitchen island before she started throwing dishes around.

"This is _my_ house, bitch. I'm not going anywhere."

Rick's chest puffed. He was losing his cool, and Jake sensed it and used it to what he thought was his advantage. Glaring at Georgie, he got in her face. "How long you been fucking him?" He looked between the pair and then settled on Georgie again. "Once white trash, always white trash. You were nothing until I married you. I put you in a nice home, gave you beautiful kids. You wanted for nothing."

"I thought I wanted nothing else," Georgie replied, scowling at him. "And then the world changed and showed me who you really were—who you _are_."

"And what am I?" he egged.

"A monster. A murderer. A rapist. A _child killer_," she growled. "Did you know Tristan was at that house when you killed all those people—his friends? You would've killed our son and not realized it. He found the red hat. He remembered it. He told us what happened and now our son knows you're the monster from his nightmares." Pursing her lips together, Georgie spit in his face. "Our son is coming with me now. Fuck your stability and fuck you."

Without missing a beat, Jake reached out and grabbed Georgie by the arm and shoved her into the art easel and Rick wasted no time in taking that moment to attack. Grabbing Jake's jacket sleeve, Rick pushed him aside and glared up at him.

"You come into my house—"

"You're leaving right now," Rick announced, shoving Jake.

Jake shoved back. "You think you're the law? You actually think you have a say in anything here?"

"You're gonna want to get out of my face," Rick warned as Jake stood inches from him. "Step back."

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Someone who really wants to kill you right now!" Rick shouted.

Hauling back, Jake punched Rick in the face and Rick retaliated, punching right back.

"You will not touch her ever again!" Rick declared, getting another punch in before Jake came back up swinging, punching him in the gut. "You are never going to—"

He was cut off when Jake grabbed him up like a football player going in for a tackle. Rick was slammed into the wall and both men began to wrapped their hands around each other's necks; the fight quickly becoming primal. Jake began pushing his hands into Rick's face and slamming his head into the wall where he had him pinned. Being a taller man, Jake had somewhat of an upper hand.

"You think you can tell me what I can do with my wife?!" Jake shouted back, emphasizing each word with every bang of Rick's head.

"Jake, stop it!" Georgie shouted, picking up a glass bottle filled with brandy off the top of the liquor cabinet by the door and smashing it across the back of his head.

Somehow, though, Jake remained unfazed. He kicked his leg back into her knee and she buckled, dropping to the ground, which only enraged Rick more as he struggled under Jake's grasp.

"It's _my_ house!" Jake barked.

Rick was able to bring his knee up into Jake's stomach and get the elbow room he needed to shove Jake away. However, Jake kept his hands on Rick's jacket and pulled him down with him as he tumbled backward over the sofa; both crashing onto the coffee table and shattering the glass top. Both men continued to shout and grunt, like two alpha male lions battling for dominance.

"No! Stop it!" Georgie pleaded as she got to her feet and tried pulling Jake off Rick, but was knocked back again.

Before she could react, Rick and Jake were back up on their feet and Rick used the adrenaline building in him and barreled into Jake, knocking them both through the front window. Shattered glass showered down around them as they landed on the porch outside; both cut up and starting to bleed pretty badly.

Georgie ran out of the house, shouting after them as Jake lifted Rick to his feet and tossed him off the porch. Rick somersaulted backward and clamored to his feet just as Jake jumped down on top of him and both men continued to tussle out into the middle of the street.

The commotion drew everyone away from what they were doing, and they came running from all directions.

When Rick managed to get on top, he wrapped his hands around Jake's throat and squeezed, while his own blood ran down his face and began to blur his vision when it dripped into his eyes. Jake got a punch in but then so did Rick. They continued like that with everyone just standing around. Georgie saw Tristan being pulled protectively behind Carol, and Carl seemed scared for his father.

As they rolled and Jake took over being on top, Rick tried pushing his thumbs into Jake's eyes while Jake tried choking him. Both men were grunting, snarling and gasping in a mad dash for dominance and Georgie had to do something, so she ran over to Jake and grabbed his shoulder in another attempt at pulling him off Rick.

When Jack released his grip momentarily on Rick, he swung his fist back into Georgie's face, hitting her in the same place as the day before. She fell back on her ass and that was enough to kick Rick's adrenaline into overdrive.

Rick used the slip in Jake's grip to lean up and headbutt him.

Jake fell off him and Rick claimed the top again, trying to choke Jake.

All he saw was red, and not just his own blood. He was so enraged with what had happened to Georgie, and with everything he knew Jake had done. Add in everything that had happened to his group in the last month alone, and Rick was suddenly a time bomb that had exploded.

Carl even tried to put a stop to the fight but was shoved back unsuccessfully by Rick.

When Rick got behind Jake, he wrapped his arms around the man's neck and began to choke him out. All he needed was that extra 'oomph' and he could easily snap Jake's neck.

But that's when Deanna came running up, out of breath.

"Stop it! Stop it right now."

"You touch her again and I'll kill you," Rick threatened venomously into Jake's ear, but loud enough for others to hear as well.

"Dammit, Rick! I said stop."

As Tobin and Nicholas advanced on him, Rick released his grip on Jake, stood up on his knees and whipped out the gun he had been hiding behind him, under his jacket.

"Or what?" he asked, waving the gun around. "You gonna kick me _out_?"

"Put that gun down, Rick," Deanna urged.

Panting, Rick shook his head. "You _still_ don't get it," he remarked, sitting back on the heels of his feet. He looked around at everyone. "_None_ of you do!" Gesturing to his people, focusing momentarily on Georgie, he continued, "We know what needs to be done and we _do_ it. _We're_ the ones who live. _You_—you just _sit_ and _plan_ and _hesitate_." Glaring at Deanna, he continued to point the gun. "You pretend like you know when you _don't_. You wish things weren't what they are. Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is _done_! Things don't get better because you—you _want_ them to. Starting _right_ now, we have to live in the _real_ world. We have to control who lives here."

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now," Deanna remarked with a scowl.

Georgie shot a look the other woman's way.

"Me? Me?" Rick gestured to himself and laughed. "You—you mean—you mean _me_? Your way is gonna _destroy_ this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's _already_ gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. If you don't fight, you die. I'm not gonna stand by and _unnhh_—"

He was cut off mid rant by Michonne who walked up and punched him in the back of his head.

Rick went down like a sack of potatoes.

Looking over at Carol, Georgie saw her son was alright. When she received a nod from the older woman, Georgie stepped past Michonne and crouched down beside the unconscious form of the man she loved. Staring up at Michonne for a moment, she then cast her eyes upon Deanna.

"Rick came to you today in my defense, to do something about the kind of people you knowingly allow to live here." Georgie got to her feet and approached Deanna and pointed to her face. "This is the visible damage, and you played a part in it. You let him in," she gestured to Jake. "You let a monster in."

She turned and looked at everyone else while Tobin walked over to Jake and helped him up.

"Do you see me?" she asked everyone and no one in particular. "I'm still standing." She placed a hand to her mouth, tears falling down her face as she glared at Deanna. "And I'm standing here."

She emphasized her point, whether anyone understood it or not, by looking down at Rick.

Georgie sighed sadly at what a mess he was. All that blood covering his face, all those cuts and other unseen injuries he sustained to help defend her. He deserved so much better than all of this. He was a broken man trying to piece his world back together, but it was like trying to slap a Band-Aid on a broken leg. She wanted to help him heal, the way he helped her heal. She wanted to be his cast.

Looking at Jake with disgust, she spit at him again.

"Georgie—" he began to speak to her.

"Shut up, Jake." She took a step closer to him as Glenn and Abraham walked over to lift Rick's limp body up off the pavement. "I believe in Islam, when a man wants to divorce his wife, all he has to say is 'I divorce you' three times. Well, I may not be a man, and I may not be Muslim, but, you know what, Jake?"

He looked her defiantly in the eye.

Georgie smiled and wiped blood from her cheek. Whose blood was anybody's guess at this point.

"I divorce you, I divorce you, I _divorce_ you."


	22. Repurpose

**Author's Note: So, it would appear there is only one more chapter after this, which will bring us to where season 5 ends. But! Do not fear. Once season 6 picks back up in the fall, so will this story. I've been loving writing this nonstop lately, but I use the show for the guideline of what I write. So...enjoy! R&amp;R! xoxo**

* * *

"_The more you adapt, the more interesting you are." _— Martha Stewart

* * *

No one was talking.

Everyone was standing around, trying to make sense of all the drama that had just unfolded.

Some people turned away and returned to their homes, to burrow themselves and pretend life was rainbows and kittens as usual. Deanna looked at Jake with contained disgust in her eyes as she watched Nicholas walk over to help Tobin with him. Her tired eyes then settled on Abraham and Glenn lifting the unconscious and bloody-faced Rick up.

Deanna frowned and shook her head.

With the public display of violence and Rick's inflamed speech, followed by Georgie's verbal divorcing of Jake, she had to make a decision about what to do for the time being.

With a nod of her head toward Tobin and Nicholas she told them to take Jake to the last house down the road which was currently empty. The doctor would be kept there for now, closer to her own home where she could keep an eye out, and where he would be furthest away from his now _ex_-wife and son, until a decision could be made about his fate in the community. She then told Abraham and Glenn to bring Rick to one of the basement apartments of the building where her family's rowhouse was. There was an empty one, with a mattress on the floor of one of the bedrooms and would work for now to detain the constable until he could be cleaned up and sleep the rage off.

Georgie walked up to Carol and pulled Tristan into her arms. She crouched down more to his level and cupped his face in her hands before giving him a kiss on the forehead. "I'm so sorry you had so see any of that, honey," she apologized. "I'm sorry all this happened."

"It's okay, mom," he assured, timidly.

"No," Georgie shook her head. "It's really not." Standing back up, she pulled Tristan back into an embrace, just letting him wrap his arms around her waist as she lifted her eyes to look at Carol. "Thank you for looking out for him and being my nursemaid for a little while."

Carol shrugged it off and smiled ruefully. "You should probably still rest."

"I know."

Carol reached out a hand to Georgie's face, where her bruise had been cut open from the hit she had just received from Jake during the tussle. "You need to get that taken care of."

Georgie touched her fingers to where Carol was gesturing and felt a thin coating of blood at her temple. Pulling her hand back she looked at the blood that had transferred onto her fingers and she sighed. "I'll make a stop at the Infirmary for some supplies," she commented. "Could you keep an eye on Tristan a little longer? I need to…" Georgie trailed off, looking back over her shoulder at Rick being carried away like a rag doll.

Carol put a hand on her shoulder and nodded. "It's alright," she said, knowing what the ginger-haired woman needed to do. "Go ahead."

"Thank you."

Running a hand through her hair, Georgie walked back out into the intersection, her eyes spying many drops of blood on the pavement. She continued, walking past the Monroes and following behind Abraham and Glenn at a short distance before veering off to the Infirmary.

Heading inside, Eugene was there, sitting with Maggie, at Tara's bedside.

"What was all that about out there?" Maggie asked, standing up and then noticing how Georgie looked. "Oh my God, what happened?"

"I'm fine," she insisted. There was a slight limp in her walk, though, from when Jake kicked her in the knee back in the house. "I just need to clean up and slap a bandage on or something before I take care of Rick."

"Georgie, stop for a minute." Maggie placed her hands on Georgie's arms and pulled her over to a stool to sit down. "Tell me what happened and I'll bandage you up."

The younger woman walked around the kitchen island and grabbed a cloth that she dampened under the sink faucet. She came back around and brought it to the side of Georgie's head to wipe away the blood, with Georgie wincing at the touch. Eugene took it upon himself to get up and find first aid supplies for Maggie to use, handing them over like a helpful assistant.

"Who did this?" Maggie asked.

"Jake."

"Jake?" Off Georgie's nod, Maggie frowned. "How long?"

"Since yesterday," she replied. "We started to argue and he came after me. Some things happened while I was unconscious that I'd rather not say right now."

"I—uh, I can step out for a few minutes," Eugene offered, pointing at the door.

Georgie looked over at him as he left without waiting for either woman to comment one way or another over his decision to leave them alone.

"You don't have to give details about what happened," Maggie insisted. "I've been at the receiving end of a very bad man who tried to hurt me once."

"What happened to him?"

Maggie's face saddened. "He cut off my daddy's head when he came to destroy the prison we were living in. Michonne stabbed him through the chest with her sword when he was trying to kill Rick. I didn't see what happened to him after that. The prison was compromised and being overrun by walkers. We had to scatter," she recounted, applying a butterfly bandage to the cut on Georgie's temple. "That was about a week before you would've met us all after Terminus."

"Yeah," Georgie nodded. "Carol and I saw the prison, afterward. We'd seen the fire in the distance and Carol needed to come back and help. That's when we followed after Tyreese and caught up with him." Looking up at Maggie's face, she tilted her head slightly. "I'm sorry that happened to your dad, and what happened to Beth, and everything you've had to go through."

Maggie nodded appreciatively. "Thanks. I'm sorry for everything you've lost and suffered, too." She tried smiling and a small laugh came out. "Could you imagine our lives as a movie or a TV show? How depressing would _that_ be?"

Georgie chuckled a little and bobbed her head. "A family drama set in hell, surrounded by the walking dead. I can see the award nominations pouring in."

Both women smiled but the smiles faded when reality came back to them, along with the current situation at hand.

"Is Rick okay? We heard the shouting, and Rick yelling about something. We didn't want to leave Tara, just in case."

"You know about Rick and me, right?"

Maggie nodded with a knowing smile. "Yes, and I'm glad he has someone in his life again. Someone who deserves him."

"Well, we were keeping what we had under wraps for a while until I could work something out with Jake to get Tristan to live with me, but Jake's become a different man. He's a bad, bad man and I was too chicken shit to make a move to get my son out of that house when I had plenty of opportunities to. I was just scared he might hurt Tristan or me before I could get help, so I pretended everything was fine and that I was hopeful to work on my marriage. But Jake saw through the charade eventually. After this," she gestured to her face, "I made it to Rick, but I passed out again, and Carol told him about the man Jake had become and the things he'd done."

"What did he do?"

"Greensboro."

Maggie's face fell. "The people in that room?"

Georgie nodded. "It was Jake and the three other men Deanna exiled months ago apparently. Tristan recognized the hat Jake had been wearing, even though he didn't see his face, and Tristan and I both found the same hat in Jake's closet."

"Oh God. Poor Tristan."

Georgie nodded. "Yeah," she muttered. "I went back to the house, Jake's house, this afternoon to get some stuff. Rick found me there, was going to help me, and that's when Jake showed up. That's when the fight started. I think Rick might've held out longer if Jake hadn't have shoved me away. They were punching and choking each other. They crashed through the front window and ended up in the street. When Deanna showed up, Rick pulled a gun out he'd been hiding behind his back and basically just told everyone that things need to change around here. We can't live inside these walls pretending everything is fine by ignoring what's outside the walls. The way he looked, though, with all that blood on his face, and the way he was trying to get his point across didn't go over so well. He looked like a crazy person, to be honest. But I agree with everything he said, and I stand by everything he said."

"Where's Rick now?"

"Being taken to an empty apartment in the building next door. Michonne knocked him out pretty good to stop his tirade. That's why I came in here to get a first aid kit to clean him up," Georgie explained. "He was protecting me and he wants to protect this place. I just want to take care of him."

Maggie stepped away to a shelf near the bed where Tara was lying unconscious. She grabbed a blue first aid kit off the top shelf and brought it over to Georgie. She then went into the cabinet with different medicine bottles. After perusing the selection she pulled one out and uncapped it, dumping two tablets into her hand and placing them into Georgie's palm. Georgie looked down at the tablets before watching Maggie grab a drinking glass from the cupboard and fill it with water. When the glass was handed over Georgie, the older female looked curious.

"What is this?"

"It's an antibiotic to prevent an infection for your cut there," Maggie replied, gesturing to the side of Georgie's head.

"Oh, thanks." Georgie popped the pills into her mouth and chased them down with a swig of water.

"You gonna be okay?"

Georgie shrugged. "I think I will now." Getting up off the stool, she set the glass down and picked up the first aid kit. "Thank you, Maggie."

"Anytime. And, uh, when Rick wakes up, tell him I hope he feels better, too."

"I will."

Walking with a slight limp out of the Infirmary, Georgie stepped down from the small porch and made a right onto the road, heading around to the front of the rowhouses. Once on the sidewalk there, several safe-zone residents were standing outside, talking among themselves when they saw Georgie approach. They immediately seemed to hush up and just watch as she walked past. Even Deanna and Reg were there, standing on the front steps up to their home, looking after her.

Up ahead, Georgie spotted Abraham standing with his arms folded in across his chest, as if guarding the entrance to the basement apartment Rick was being holed up in. When he saw her, he gave her a sympathetic look and a simple nod of his head as he stepped aside for her to head in.

It was dark inside, when she entered. There was a sheet covering the door in the place of curtains. The inside wasn't even fully remodeled, which meant whoever had originally built up the community, before the outbreak, hadn't finished everything. She turned to her right and saw Michonne and Glenn hovering around Rick who was lying on a mattress on the floor, facing up.

"Hey, Georgie," Glenn greeted with a sympathetic nod, sticking his hands in his back pockets.

"Hey."

He looked between both women and frowned. "If you need me for anything, I'll be near."

"Thanks."

Georgie looked at Michonne who looked back at her. Without a word, she crouched knelt down onto the mattress and set the first aid kit behind her on the floor. Leaning forward slightly over Rick's body, she slowly began to undo his tie and slide it off from around his neck.

"I had to do it, you know," Michonne spoke.

Georgie paused for a second, looking over her shoulder slightly at Michonne but not fully giving her acknowledgement. She just continued with what she was doing; tending to Rick. She let her eyes sweep over his face while she carefully pulled his constable jacket off his shoulders and slid his arms out of the sleeves. When she tossed the jacket away from her, she turned next to unbuttoning his police dress shirt and doing the same with the shirt she had with the jacket.

All the while, Michonne remained standing there, just watching, but Georgie could feel like Michonne wanted to talk.

"Are you going to hover like that or do you maybe want to help me here?" Leaning back on the heels of her feet, Georgie looked up at the other woman and gestured to Rick's clothes. "Maybe you could get me a bowl of water and a towel of some sort so I can clean this blood off him?"

Pursing her lips together, Michonne nodded and stepped out of the room, heading to the unfinished kitchen. She returned a few moments later with a very damp dishcloth and handed it over to Georgie.

"Are you upset with me because of what I did? Because I did it for _him_, not _them_."

Georgie sighed. "I'm not upset with you," she assured. "I'm upset with the situation." Using the damp dishcloth, Georgie began to wipe the blood gently from Rick's face. "There are so many bad guys out there, you know? Never mind the walkers. All the assholes I've had to deal with since I first ended up on my own after all this started, and after all the bullshit I've seen or been through, here comes _this_ asshole," she smirked, gesturing to Rick, "waltzing into my life like some sort of Byronic hero and making me believe there are good guys still left in the world."

Michonne moved closer and crouched down at the end of the bed. "Yeah, he does that," she agreed.

"I think he sees himself as a villain sometimes," Georgie continued, brushing his hair off his face. "I think he has a hard time seeing himself how _we_ see him, and he just needs to be reminded he's one of the good guys despite the things he's had to do to keep everyone safe."

"Want me to rinse that cloth out?"

Georgie looked at Michonne and nodded, handing the bloody thing over. In the few moments of privacy she had with Rick, Georgie brushed her thumb over his bottom lip and just admired how handsome he was, even with all the cuts and the blood still covering his face. Michonne returned with the dishcloth again, which was a little less bloody and a wetter than before. Georgie used it to clean off the rest of the blood on his face, in his hair, and across his hands from punching the shit out of Jake.

Michonne took the cloth from her once more but didn't return with it when she came back into the room. She, instead, sat down in the chair against the wall just behind Georgie, watching as the ginger-haired woman opened up the first aid kit. First came some sort of antibiotic cream, which Georgie placed small dabs of over every cut. Then, came the tiny bandages; nine of them in total all over his face, including one across the bridge of his nose. Lastly, a gauze bandage she wrapped around Rick's right wrist and knuckles.

"How bad did Jake hurt you?" Michonne finally spoke up again.

Georgie shrugged. "I don't even care," she replied. "I'm still here, and he didn't break my spirit. That's all that matters." Looking back over her shoulder again at the other woman, she added, "He did enough, but I'll be okay. I was unconscious for most of it, so I'm trying not to let it bother me so much."

"It doesn't make whatever he did to you right."

"I know it doesn't." Georgie moved from her kneeling position and stood up. "And I want him dead because of it. But not just because of what he did to me." She walked around to the other side of the mattress and sat down next to Rick's sleeping form, leaning her back against the wall as she looked over at Michonne. "Remember when we were all in agreement that those people who were killed in that home in Greensboro deserved to be avenged, somehow?"

Michonne nodded. "Yeah?"

"Turns out Jake was the ringleader of the group who had those people executed. He's…evil. He doesn't deserve to live in this world anymore; not after everything he's done."

"You sound like Rick."

Georgie shrugged. "Birds of a feather."

Michonne tilted her head back against the wall, looking somewhat at the ceiling while folding her arms across her chest. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"If what happened results in Rick being exiled, would you stay here for the sake of your son or would you take your son and follow Rick?"

Both women turned their heads toward one another. Georgie bent her knees up to her chest and mimicked Michonne in folding her arms cross her chest as well.

"If Rick was exiled and Jake was allowed to stay, I would leave with Rick in a heartbeat," Georgie replied.

"And if Jake is exiled, too?"

"I think I would still follow Rick. I feel safer with him." Georgie looked down at him as he stirred slightly in his sleep and turned his head slightly. "Even when we found ourselves surrounded by a pack of walkers, in the woods at night, with no ammo left, I felt safer with him than I ever did on my own or with other groups. With other groups or alone, I always wondered if I would survive to see another morning. With Rick, I know I can." Looking back at Michonne, she gave a nod of her head. "Would _you_ follow him if he's exiled?"

Michonne paused. There was a ghost of a smile on her lips that preceded the nod she gave. "I would follow him."

"If they knew him like we do, I don't think this would even be an issue." Then, she added, "If _we_ ran this place, things would be very different."

Michonne dropped her arms and folded her hands together in her lap and she hunched forward a little. "We were out there too long, and it's been nice to take a break from it all for a while, but we can't pretend anymore. We can't let this place kick him out. This place has to understand it _needs_ Rick."

Georgie nodded in agreement. "Were you ever an avid reader in the world before?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "I read a lot throughout high school and college, and up until after Jake and I got married. After Tristan was born, I didn't have as much time anymore to just sit down with a good book." She smirked. "I always loved Danielle Steel. Her books were a guilty pleasure of mine."

Michonne grinned. "My favorite was _Zoya_," she offered up.

Georgie chuckled. "Mine was _No Greater Love_."

"Which one was that?"

"The siblings who survived the Titanic sinking, but lost their parents and how the eldest sister had to raise her younger brothers and sisters; putting her own life on the backburner," Georgie replied. "_Zoya_ was in my top five, though." Shrugging and looking down at her arms, she added, "But, the topic of reading, in general; I just remembered this line from Shakespeare and it just reminded me a little of Rick. It went, 'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.' It's a little bit beautiful, isn't it?"

"I think it pertains to a lot of us. We're survivors; we've fought hard to stay alive and protect the ones we love, and we would lay down our own lives for those we love. I think _that's_ pretty great."

"Yeah, it is."

The two of them fell silent again until Michonne suddenly stood up.

"You hungry?" she asked.

Georgie nodded. "A little bit."

"Alright. Let me go get us something to eat."

Watching Michonne walk across the room and head for the door, Georgie called out, "You don't have to stay here. With Rick incapacitated that kind of makes you acting constable."

"I'd rather be here," Michonne insisted. "That is, if _you_ don't mind the company."

Georgie smiled. "I don't mind."

With that, Michonne left for a while and Georgie turned to look down at Rick again. Reaching out her left hand, she placed her palm on his forehead and brushed a few errant curls back. Slouching down, she moved to lie on her side, facing him, listening to him breathe.

From everything that had happened the day before and all the physical and mental exertion from the day she was in, Georgie realized her eyelids felt heavy and her body was aching for rest. So, she scooted a little bit closer to Rick and laid her head on his shoulder. He stirred again, at the gesture this time, and seemed to somehow sense she was there. His own head turned more toward her and his chin brushed her forehead in the process.

Smiling contentedly to herself, Georgie yawned and closed her eyes.

Twenty minutes later, Michonne returned with two tuna fish sandwiches and bottles of water. When she noticed Georgie had fallen asleep, she shrugged and walked back over to the chair against the wall. She held one sandwich in her hand and the other balanced on her leg.

"More for me," she muttered and began to eat.

* * *

Georgie awoke from a nightmare in the middle of the night.

She was lying on her right side, facing an unfamiliar wall and sat up trying to remember where she was. Peering through the darkness, she looked across the room and could just barely make out Michonne asleep on the floor, using her deputy jacket as a pillow. Turning to her left, she saw Rick was still asleep as well, lying on his left, facing the wall where Michonne had been sitting in the chair.

Placing a hand to her abdomen, she looked down, half expecting to see the gaping wound she had received in her nightmare from an undead Jake.

But there was no fatal stab wound. There was no undead Jake.

She breathed a sigh of relief and looked toward the door, wondering what time it was.

She couldn't shake the nightmare completely after waking up. It was just there in the back of her mind like an annoying hangnail. It made her wonder what would happen if she went back to Rick's house — _her_ house — and grabbed a butcher knife, since she forgot where her hunting knife was, and took it to the house where Jake was being kept. She wondered how easy it would be to sneak in, quiet as a mouse, and slit his throat while he slept. She wondered what his last thoughts would be about as his hands clamored for his neck in a futile attempt to keep from bleeding out in seconds.

Georgie closed her eyes.

If she did just that, would _she_ be exiled?

Wouldn't she be justified in her actions?

Would Rick leave with her if she had to leave?

Would they survive outside again with their children?

Would others follow them out of Alexandria?

Georgie opened her eyes.

Standing up, she reached into her pocket and felt around and until she found what she was looking for. Pulling out her wedding ring, she smirked at it and then fisted it tightly in the palm of her hand.

With a look over at Michonne, and then over to Rick, Georgie walked over to the door and let herself out into the night air.

* * *

A few hours later, Rick woke up.

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and sat up, wondering where he was. He looked to the right side of the mattress he had been sleeping on and could've sworn someone had been beside him, but no one was there now. The emptiness of the right side of the mattress felt a little depressing.

Chuckling to himself, he laid back down, putting a hand to his head.

"What's so funny?" he heard Michonne ask from somewhere in the room.

Lifting his head, he turned to his left to find her sitting in a chair against a wall, her feet planted firmly on the ground and her arms folded across her chest, staring back at him.

"You were here the whole time?"

"All night," she answered. "Georgie was, too."

Rick looked to his right again, as if expecting Georgie to suddenly appear. With no such luck, he turned back to Michonne. "Where is she now?"

Michonne shrugged. "I fell asleep for a while. She must've slipped out then." Then, asking again, "What's so funny?"

Rick sat up and leaned against the wall, pulling his legs up toward his chest and resting his arms over his knees. "It's—it's like the train car. After the whole thing, I'm still there."

"Deanna wanted you in here, calm things down. Georgie patched you up. Carl came by for a while when you and Georgie were asleep. I sent him home." Standing up, she dragged the chair closer to the mattress and sat back down. "Rick. What are you planning?"

Rick shook his head slightly as he put his hand behind his neck, rubbing it and wincing. Michonne sighed and sat back in her chair.

"We put Jake in another house. You could have told me what was happening with Georgie."

"It moved fast. And then Noah," he replied. "I couldn't tell you about the gun."

"Nah, you couldn't." She shook her head at him.

"Oh, you wanted this place."

"We _had_ to stop being out there."

Rick looked around the room. "Well, we're here," he remarked dropping his left leg and arm down.

Michonne scoffed. "Well, you just said you _weren't_."

The door opened then; Glenn, Carol and Abraham walked in.

"Where'd you get the gun?" Michonne inquired.

"You took it, right? From the armory?" Carol asked, playing dumb; because, in fact, she was the one who stole the guns. It was something only Rick, Daryl, Carol, and inadvertently Georgie, had been in on. "That was stupid. Why did you do it?"

Rick looked at Carol and tilted his head. "Just in case," he answered, looking back at Michonne.

"Deanna's planning to have a meeting tonight," Glenn informed, his hands shoved in his pockets. "For anyone who wants to."

"To kick Rick out?" Abraham wondered.

"To try," Carol remarked.

"We don't know that," Glenn said. "Maggie's with Deanna right now. She's gonna find out what it is."

Carol looked directly at Rick. "At the meeting, you tell them exactly the kind of man Jake is, what he did before he came here and what he's done to Georgie. You say you took a gun just to be sure that Georgie was safe from the man you believed would endanger her and, unfortunately, has. You tell them that Jake attacked you when you confronted him about his crimes. If they don't seem to believe you, for whatever idiotic reason, you say you'll do whatever you want them to. Just tell them a story that they want to hear. It's what I've been doing since I got here."

"Why?" asked Michonne.

"Because these people are children and children like stories."

"What happens after all the nice words and they still try to kick him out despite the evidence stacked in Rick's favor?" Abraham piped up, looking at Carol.

"They're guarding the armory now," Glenn stated.

Carol looked at Rick again, still keeping hush about their stash of gun she stole. "We still have knives. That's all we'll need against them."

"Well, tonight at the meeting, if it looks like it's going bad, I whistle. Carol grabs Deanna, I take Spencer," Rick rattled, and then gestured to Michonne, "you grab Reg, Glenn and Abraham cover us, watch the crowd."

"We can _talk_ to them," Michonne insisted.

"Yeah, we _will_. If we can't get through, we take the three of them and say we'll slit their throats."

"Like at Terminus," Glenn said.

Rick shook his head. "_No_, we just tell 'em. They give us the armory and it's over," he assured, tiredly, with a wave of his hand.

Glenn seemed upset, almost betrayed. "Did you want this?"

"No," Rick swore. "I hit my limit. I—I screwed up. And here we are." He looked around at the three faces looking back at him. Moving to lay back down on his side, he announced, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna sleep some more."

Without another word, Michonne stood up and walked out with Glenn, Carol and Maggie, leaving Rick alone.

* * *

Michonne walked back home, heading into the main house to seek out Georgie, but didn't find her there, so she checked next door, and still nothing. Taking pause, she pursed her lips in thought as she stood out on the porch. Looking to her left, at Jake's house, Michonne smirked to herself.

She walked down one porch and then up another.

Someone had put up a sheet over the broken front window and swept up all the glass as a courtesy, possibly thinking Georgie would still want to live in the house with Tristan. Pulling open the front door, she walked inside and took in all the damage done by Rick and Jake before their fight continued outside. The art easel was cracked, the coffee table was demolished, and there was a pile of broken dishware in the kitchen that someone had swept up but not thrown out.

She hadn't actually been inside this house yet, but she could feel the negative energy inside of it.

Walking through to the kitchen and out into the back hall, she turned and headed upstairs to check there next for Georgie. In the hall there was a chair that belonged to the kitchen set downstairs, and one of its legs were broken where it laid in front of an open door. The door's frame showed signs of damage, as if someone had kicked the door open. Inside that particular room, the bed was in disarray, the mirror above the dresser was smashed and, the closer Michonne got to the bed, she could see there were a few blood stains on the duvet she assumed belonged to Georgie.

Swallowing a lump back in her throat, feeling remorse over what happened to her friend, Michonne left what she determined was obviously Jake's bedroom.

The bathrooms were empty but there and so was the last bedroom she figured must've been where Georgie slept. Georgie's clothes were in a pile on the floor. There were even two items of make-up on the dresser. This room felt nicer. There were no signs of a struggle ever taking place in here.

Perplexed with where the ginger-haired woman had gone off to, Michonne returned back downstairs, but when she heard noises coming from the garage, she stopped.

Opening the door, she found Georgie standing at the work bench, tinkering with something small and gold.

"Is that a bullet?" Michonne asked, foregoing a 'hello' or 'there you are'.

Georgie smiled down at her hand. "No," she replied, holding it up and looking at Michonne. "It's my wedding ring."

"Looks like a bullet."

"Well, yeah, technically it is now." She continued to smile, admiring her handiwork. "I melted it down along with a gold necklace Jake had me wear to Deanna's party and some gold earrings I found in a jewelry box upstairs. I took apart a regular bullet and affixed it to this beauty." She cast her eyes upon Michonne who seemed equal parts concerned and impressed.

"I think I can assume where you want that bullet to go."

"And you wouldn't be incorrect." Georgie shrugged. "But even if it doesn't get used, at least now it serves a purpose. I could drill two little holes at the top here and find a new chain, wear it around my neck as a reminder."

"What kind of reminder?"

"That we're all one bullet away. That what hurt us in the past only makes us stronger and gives us more of a reason to fight on." Putting the gold bullet into her pocket, she looked down at the workbench. "Rick said it. We fight or we die."

"Rick woke up," Michonne informed. "A little while ago."

"Oh, okay." Georgie turned from the work bench and walked up beside Michonne to head inside the house.

Michonne followed, closing the door behind them. "He's planning something for tonight. There's going to be a meeting to determine if he's exiled or not. But he won't let that happen. _We_ won't let that happen."

Georgie nodded. "Should I bring him something to eat, do you think?"

"He had us leave so he could sleep a while longer." Michonne watched as Georgie picked up a bag with a few clothes that was sitting on the kitchen table. "You should still be resting, too."

Georgie scoffed. "I've rested enough. I'm _done_ with resting." She looked at Michonne. "I was never weak," she remarked, slightly out of the blue. "I was always a pretty strong person. Not necessarily physically. I mean, I can't bench press two hundred pounds or run a mile without getting winded, but I never let anything hurt me that I could handle. I dunno—mentally, _spiritually_, maybe? Nothing hurt me, nothing destroyed me. And then I lost a child. _You_ know that pain. _Carol_ knows that pain. And it hurts, but it hasn't destroyed us. Jake hurt me, and I let it get to that point. I never would've let it get to that point before. I would've stabbed him in the heart if he lifted a hand to me before. Yet, somehow I let him hurt me and I think maybe it felt like I deserved it in a way. Not for his reasons, but as karma. For me being ignorant about my brother's condition and not realizing he'd been bitten. For not keeping my daughter safe enough so she could be here now, too." Tears began stinging her eyes as she leaned against the edge of the table. "I let him hurt me. I fought back. Not enough, but I did. But he still hurt me and I was a fucking idiot for letting it happen. But he hasn't destroyed me."

Michonne had stood by, frowning empathetically while Georgie spoke. Feeling it the right thing to do, she stepped forward and hugged her ginger friend.

"No, he hasn't," Michonne agreed. "And Jake _will_ pay."

When both women parted, Georgie nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you can't break what's already broken, right? You can just melt it down and repurpose it." She pulled the bullet back out of her pocket and set it on the kitchen island to admire again.

Michonne looked at it and picked it up, nodding in approval. "It really _is_ a beauty," she complimented with a sly smile.

* * *

"Wake up."

Rick jumped slightly. He turned his head to find Carol sitting at the base of the mattress. Pulling himself up, he leaned up against the wall again and focused on her.

"It's good what happened last night. We have more cover now," she remarked. "All of them think you've been found out, that it's over."

"It's not over. Not while Jake lives and has even the slimmest chance of going after Georgie again," Rick countered. He sighed. "Is she alright? Have you seen her yet today?"

Carol nodded. "I just passed her and Michonne coming from Jake's house. I think she was gathering up some belongings to bring back to our house for her and Tristan."

"Is she doing okay?"

"She looks fine. A little more rested."

Rick nodded, looking down at his lap. "Good, good." Leaning his head back, he lifted his eyes toward Carol again. She handed him a new gun, which he hesitantly took. "Why didn't you want to tell them we had more guns?"

"Michonne _stopped_ you. She _knocked_ you _out_."

"Well, I deserved it."

"Well, it _was_ stupid," she agreed. "I told you we had to go about this a certain way, to not go half-cocked. And then you go waving a gun around like a crazy person."

Rick shrugged and frowned. "Well, I _said_ I made a mistake. And, Michonne—she's with us. Glenn is. You know Georgie is."

"I didn't tell them about the guns just in case."

Tilting his head a bit, Rick sighed. "I don't want to lie anymore."

Carol smirked. "You said you don't want to take this place. And you don't want to lie?" She looked at him like a child who couldn't get his way. "Oh, sunshine, you don't get both."

Giving him a pat to his leg, Carol stood up and left without another word.

Rick just sat there, bringing his focus to the gun in his hand. He checked the clip, but it was empty. He'd need to get bullets for it if he was going to use it.


	23. Good Man

**Author's Note:** **Be warned, there is sexual content in this chapter again, so young children turn away and go watch _Sesame Street_. Also, this is the last chapter until October 2015 when Season 6 returns to AMC. I've appreciated all the reviews and feedback and I have loved writing this story so far and cannot wait to continue doing so in five months, lol. That being said...ENJOY! And don't forget to check back in the fall for when I update again! **

**As always, R&amp;R! **

**xoxo**

* * *

"_I might have a reckless streak_

_At least a country-mile wide_

_If you're gonna run with me_

_It's gonna be a wild ride_

_When it comes to loving you_

_I've got velvet hands_

_I'll show you how a real bad boy_

_Can be a real good man."_

—Tim McGraw

* * *

Rick continued to look around the room after Carol left. He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head back against the wall, thinking about what he would say at the meeting and how he could say it without losing his cool. He needed Deanna and the rest of the safe-zoners to understand him; to see that their way of living, their ignorance about the outside world, would get them killed. They needed to be prepared for anything and, if his people, the ones he loved, were gonna continue to live in Alexandria, he needed to know things were gonna change.

Realizing there was no longer a reason for him to stay in the basement of this particular building, Rick pulled himself up to his feet, tucking the gun Carol had given him into the back of his pants and then pulling his shirt down over it. He leaned forward and picked his constable's shirt and jacket up off the floor in one hand and looked at the mattress.

Without a second thought, he walked out of the room, toward the door and opened it. Stepping out into daylight, he squinted, raising his hand to shade his vision a little. Walking up a few steps, Rick turned left onto the red brick sidewalk and approached Tobin and two other men he hadn't really caught the names of, who were standing around with rifles slung over their shoulders.

"Hey, Tobin," he greeted politely.

"Rick."

When he reached the corner, he glanced up to the side porch of Deanna's home and found her standing there, staring sternly back at him. Continuing down the road, he passed Glenn sitting on the porch of the Infirmary. He didn't stop to talk, but he gave a nod of his head. He had already said what needed to be said earlier when the younger man visited with Carol and Abraham.

Reaching the intersection, Rick's eyes wandered over toward Jake's house and saw the bed sheet covering the front window and his mind immediately conjured up the memory of the fight from the day before and how much rage he felt inside of him. He hadn't had that kind of one on one beat down with another person since The Governor.

He knew the house could be useful for other people to live in, but he would personally prefer to see the place burn to the ground.

Turning away, he looked down at the pavement as he continued walking; eventually reaching his house and casually climb the steps. He hadn't had the door open a foot when Carl came running up to him.

"Dad."

Rick embraced his son with his right arm after shutting the door behind him.

"You okay?" Carl asked.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a step back and walking in the direction of the stairwell. "Look, I'm sorry."

"I heard about the meeting."

"You're staying home," Rick stated and continued on.

"That's what it is now, right?" Carl questioned, hopefully. "Home?"

Rick stopped and looked back at his son. "Yeah," he nodded.

"They need us. They'll die without us."

"I might have to threaten one of them," Rick said as he walked back up to Carl. "I could have to _kill_ one of them."

"You won't."

"I might."

"You have to tell them."

"I told them last night."

"You have to _tell_ them so they can _hear_ you," Carl insisted, looking his father in the eye.

"I don't know if they _can_," Rick replied. "Does that make you afraid?"

Carl shook his head. "Just for them. You _have_ to tell them; not just about what Jake did to Georgie and those people we found in Greensboro, but about everything. The world outside."

Rick looked at his son, and admired how grown up he'd become. He was proud and also sad. Sad that his son had his childhood stolen and was forced to live in this new world and go through everything he'd had to go through.

Placing a hand on the back of Carl's head, Rick pulled him in closer and placed a kiss on the top of the boy's head. "I'll do what I can," he finally agreed.

Carl nodded in acceptance. As he father began to walk away toward the stairwell again, he called out, "Georgie's upstairs with Judith and Tristan, in case you were wondering."

Rick threw a look over his shoulder at his son to see him smirking. Pausing, he looked up at the stairs and nodded.

He walked up the stairwell slowly at first, but once he reached the landing, and was out of Carl's eyesight, he took the stairs two at a time. He went straight to his bedroom first, throwing his constable shirt and jacket onto his bed, and then slipped back out to walk over toward the room where Judith slept now. There he found Georgie sitting on the floor with his little girl, while Tristan laid on his stomach about a foot away; reading a comic book Carl had most likely given him.

"Hey," Rick uttered, announcing his presence. He began to smile at the trio on the floor and it made his day considerably better.

Georgie smiled back up at him. "Hey yourself." Picking Judith up in her arms, she walked up to Rick with his daughter and handed the baby girl over.

Rick happily took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. He shifted her around so he was holding her with his left arm only and then used his right to encircle around Georgie's waist, pulling her in for a kiss.

_His girls._

Looking down at Tristan, he noted that the boy was looking up at him shyly. "You doin' alright, buddy?"

The boy nodded and hesitated to return to reading the comic book until his mother looked down at him with a reassuring smile.

Georgie turned her face away from her son and leaned in to whisper in Rick's ear. "He's still a little shaken from watching the fight yesterday."

Rick frowned guiltily. "I'm sorry you had to see all that yesterday, Tristan."

Tristan looked back up and shrugged sadly. "It's okay."

Georgie squeezed Rick's hand that was gripping onto Judith. "He'll be okay," she assured, not wanting him to take on yet another burden.

Rick gave Judith another kiss to her head and then walked over to the Pack-n-Play crib and set her inside with a stuffed animal to play with. "Hey, Tristan, can you keep an eye on Judith for a little while?"

Tristan nodded. "Yeah."

"Thanks, buddy." Placing a hand on the small of Georgie's back, Rick led her out into the hall. "You sure he's okay with what happened?"

Georgie nodded. "Yeah. He asked me if his dad tried to hurt me, and I couldn't lie to him. I just told him that his dad got messed up in the head because of how the world changed; that he, unfortunately, did a lot of bad things," she explained in a quiet voice. "Then he asked if you were fighting him because you were saving me." Georgie smiled. "I said yes, because 'Rick is a good guy and that's what good guys do. They save people.'"

Rick looked down at the floor between them, shaking his head as if embarrassed by the label of being a good guy. "I don't always feel like the good guy."

"Just because it's a cloudy day don't mean the sun ain't shining."

Rick smirked. "So, he's not scared of me, after how I acted?"

"I think he was a little freaked out by the violence, but he's unfortunately seen plenty when he was out on the road with those people. He'll bounce back. He's just a little shy. Once he gets to know you better, he'll open up more," she guaranteed.

"How are _you_ doing after yesterday?"

"I'm better than I was," she replied, grabbing onto the bottom of his T-shirt and leaning up to kiss him. "I'm better now."

Rick smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her back and hugged her gently. When Georgie lifted her arms to wrap them around his shoulders she buried her face into the side of his neck, kissing the skin there.

"What about you? Are _you_ doing better?"

"I hope so," he answered honestly, as they pulled back from each other. "Did you hear about the meeting tonight?"

"Yeah," Georgie nodded. "And I'll be there in your corner, no matter what happens."

"I might have to make some threats, maybe kill," he informed, keeping his voice low so that it didn't waft into Judith's room and upset Tristan at all. "Not just Jake."

"What if they don't exile either of you? How do we take care of him then?"

Rick shrugged. "I'll think of something."

"I could pull a Lizzie Borden," she offered.

He narrowed his eyes as her and tilted his head slightly. "How do you mean?"

Georgie smirked a bit slyly. "Well, first I'd need you to keep lookout." Off his nod, she added, "Then I would sneak in on Jake while he slept, take off all my clothes and then stab him to death while he slept with a big ol' blade. When I'm done, I'll take a shower, put my clothes back on, wash the blade and sneak back out, like a ghost."

Rick chuckled, brushing a hand over his mouth as he nodded. "Well, as great of a plan that is, I think you and I will still be the prime suspects no matter what happens to him."

"So, basically, you're saying why bother sneaking around? Just walk right up to him in broad daylight and put a bullet in his brainpan?"

Rick shrugged. "That's another great plan," he said. "Or we could knock him out cold in the middle of the night and drag him outside the walls, tie him to a tree, cut open his stomach and alert some walkers; let_ them_ deal with him."

Georgie shook her head and gave Rick a slight shove backward as she laughed under her breath. "We sound like a pair of psychopaths, discussing all the ways to kill my ex."

Rick sniffed and smiled. "Two peas in a pod, you and me."

Letting out a sigh and looking past Rick, Georgie ran a hand through her hair. "I really don't care about how it happens. I just—I need it to happen; sooner better than later."

Lifting a hand up to the side of her face, Rick nodded. "It will," he insisted. "He doesn't get to live; not after everything he's done."

Looking Rick in the eye, Georgie smirked appreciatively up at him. She reached up and pushed a stray curl off his forehead, and then pulled his head down toward her to place a kiss upon the tiny bandage over his left eyebrow. Leaning back, she dropped her hand to his shoulder, and then down his arm.

"I'm gonna take a shower," she said.

Rick nodded. "Alright," he replied, as she stepped past him toward the main bathroom.

Georgie turned and stopped, looking back at him when he remained standing where he was outside Judith's room. When Rick sensed she wasn't staring, he cast a glance over his shoulder at her.

"Why are you just standing there?"

He seemed confused. "I don't follow."

She curled a finger at him, while reaching a hand behind her and opening the bathroom door. "You could use a shower, too."

Rick caught on without needing to be told twice. Turning around completely, he practically stalked up to Georgie before grabbing her up by the waist and hoisting her. Kicking the door shut as gently as possible with the heel of his boot, the pair slipped into the bathroom together, smiling at one another.

Without hesitation, Georgie lifted her shirt up off her head and dropped it to the floor. After Rick did the same, in removing his slightly soiled white T-shirt, he took note of the recent bruises on her abdomen and arms that had been caused by Jake. Frowning, Rick knelt down before her and placed his hands softly upon her hips and leaned forward to kiss her stomach where the bruising was more pronounced. Smiling appreciatively down at him, Georgie ran her fingers through his hair when he leaned his forehead against her, just resting like that for a moment.

"Get off your knees," she whispered.

He tilted his head up, looking at her, and obliged her by standing back up. Leaning in toward her face, he stole a chaste kiss before reaching around her back and unclasping her bra. He pulled the straps down off her shoulders and slid it completely off, letting it drop carelessly to the floor. Then, they both rather quickly fumbled their way out of their pants and underwear — and boots, in Rick's case.

Locking the bathroom door so no one would just waltz right in on them, Rick turned back to look at Georgie as she turned the water on in the shower, sticking a hand in to check the temperature. Sensing him approach from behind her, she threw a look over her shoulder at him, but without making eye contact; just watching him in her peripheral vision.

Slowly, like velvet, he touched his fingers on the sides of her thighs and trailed them up over the softness of her hips, and then around to her stomach to pull her back up against him. As they stepped forward into the shower together, warm water immediately rained down over their heads, washing away the dirt and feeling rather like a baptism of sorts.

It went unspoken, but this moment between them felt like the beginning of a new path for them.

They were washing away the past and starting fresh together.

Rick lowered his face to her shoulder and kissed his way up her neck, while reaching over to grab the shampoo bottle. Leaning his head back a little, he squirted a considerable dollop of shampoo into his palm. Setting the bottle back down with his free hand, he clapped his hands together and then brought them into Georgie's hair. He rubbed his fingers along her scalp in a massaging fashion, lathering up her long red locks. She tilted her head forward, bracing her hands on either side of the shower walls, feeling so physical and emotional comfort with him that tears began to fall down her face, but went unnoticed with the water showering upon them both.

Piling her sudsy hair on top of her head, Rick grabbed the bottle again, but Georgie turned around to face him and snatched it out of his hand. Squirting shampoo into her hand this time, she did the same as him. After replacing the bottle where he picked it up from, she pressed her palms together and brought both palms to his hair and massaged the shampoo into his scalp. He just watched her, blinking away the water in his eyes, and leaned into her ministrations.

Neither spoke; they just cleaned each other in comfortable silence.

When she was done, they both stepped closer to each other and pressed their faces cheek to cheek as the water continued to pelt them and begin to rinse away the shampoo in their hair; although, hers took a little longer because there was more of it.

While he helped get the remaining suds out of her hair, Rick cupped the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss so insatiable that it was a surprise neither cut their teeth on the other's lips.

Next came the bar of soap that they took turns lathering into their hands, in turn running over each other's body, cleaning each nook and cranny, which easily got them a little more hot and bothered. As a result, Rick turned her around so that he was pressed against her backside. He brought his right arm up across her chest, her left breast fitting perfectly in his hand, while his left hand snaked down to the apex of her legs, which elicited a shaky gasp from her lips.

Pleased with the reaction he got, he let his fingers continue their dance upon and within her. Georgie had to once again brace her hands on both sides of the shower walls that were just as wet and slick as he was making her.

As he leaned his head forward again to kiss her neck, she tilted hers back as the fire in her belly began to grow. But that wasn't how she wanted to peak. Bringing a hand down from a wall, she pushed his hand away and turned around to face him, causing him to look at her first with confusion and then with concern.

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke. "If you're not ready to yet—"

"I am," she assured. "With you." Georgie leaned in to kiss him to demonstrate her certainty. "But I want to do this old school," she added with a small grin.

Nodding, Rick wrapped his arms around her shoulders and reciprocated her kiss. Instead of turning off the water, he let it continue to run as he pulled them out of the shower, both dripping wet all over as he gently lowered down to the floor to lie on her back. Georgie looked up at him as he knelt between her legs and lowered his body down upon hers, but not yet placing his entire weight upon her.

When his blue eyes looked into her green ones, Rick reached down between their bodies and positioned himself at her entrance, toying with her at first before slowly easing himself in. All too aware about what had been done to her, even though she had been unconscious for it, Rick still felt guilty in being with her like this so soon after she'd been violated. However, Georgie was very insistent that she was fine; and that was only because she knew he loved her as she loved him and he made her feel safe.

When he saw the consent in her eyes for him to press on, Rick entered her fully with a driving thrust. He kept his movements slow at first, feeling as if he might exacerbate the pain from her recent injuries. However, the way Georgie reached her hands down to grip his ass and encouraged him onward suggested otherwise. So, after pulling out halfway, he plunged in deeper, over and over, as he laid his body more fully on top of hers and concealed his face in her neck to muffle his groans. With a consistent swivel of his hips, Rick continued to slip in and out of her.

Georgie moved her hands up Rick's back, dragging her nails across his soft skin and biting gently into his shoulder, which elicited a delighted hiss from between his lips. In response, he picked up momentum as she arched her back and lifted her hips to his thrusting. Their breathing became quick and shallow, with punctuated gasps.

As they continued writhing on the floor together, she wrapped her legs around his waist with her feet crossed just under his ass. Leftover water from the shower rolled off their bodies as perspiration formed between them. Lifting his face to hers, Rick claimed her lips just as that familiar white hot heat began to form in his loins and suddenly bolted forward through every nerve ending in his body as he released himself into her. Riding out the jarring, pulsing waves of his orgasm, Rick soldiered on, ever the gentlemen, until she got hers.

It took a few more moments, but that strong, lovely sensation began to claim her again. Digging her nails into his shoulders and pulling him down more upon her body, Georgie peaked with a blinding, shuddering sense of completion.

Once the tremors began to subside, he finally allowed his full weight to lie upon her, pinning her to the tiled floor, where he remained in her welcoming arms for a minute or two.

After coming down from their mutual high, Rick unsheathed himself from within her and rolled onto his back, lying on the tiled floor beside her and staring up at the ceiling. Resting one hand upon his chest, he emitted a contented sigh and turned his head to look at Georgie's profile. She had her eyes closed and looked so peaceful.

It brought a smile to his face.

Slowly, Rick sat up and stared at the still running shower. Pulling his knees up toward his chest, he draped his arms over his knees and then looked back at Georgie again who was finally looking at him as well.

"Third time's definitely a charm," she remarked as a grin toyed at the corners of her mouth.

Rick stood up, smiling back at her, and then walking up to the shower and turning the tap off. The sudden silence in the room was almost deafening, but it allowed them to ear Carol talking to Carl downstairs. Although, whatever was being said was considerably muffled through the closed bathroom door and the fact that they were a floor above. Turning back around and reaching a hand down to Georgie, he pulled her up to her feet before cupping her face in his hands and kissing her once more.

"I think we just defeated the purpose of our shower," he commented against her lips.

Georgie snickered. "We'll just have to take another one later."

"As long as I'm still here later tonight after the meeting," he said, stepping back and reaching for two, large and fluffy towels for each of them. "Things might get messy."

"We do messy well."

Rick nodded. "We do."

Georgie looked him over; from his lean, muscular legs, to his taut torso and up to the way his damp brown hair clung to the sides of his face in limp curls. The latter actually brought an amused laugh out of her which piqued Rick's curiosity.

"What?"

"I was just thinking that, if I was still capable of having children and you and I created a child together, that poor thing would have the curliest hair ever," she remarked. "Between you and me, we'd have our very own Orphan Annie."

Rick smiled at the image. He could've easily seen having children of his own with her down the line, if life remained protected and safe for them inside Alexandria's walls. However, since she no longer had the necessary equipment, that option was off the table, and he was okay with it. They had three children between them to raise and love together. They didn't need to create new life because they had three perfect ones already to bring up.

Although, as much as they would like to hope, they were both very much aware that this life no longer had any guarantees that any of them would live long lives. There were too many dangers. And, as they wrapped their towels around their bodies and picked up their discarded articles of clothing, the reality of a clear and present danger was at the forefront of their minds.

* * *

Rick and Georgie had managed to discreetly slip into their bedroom, wearing only towels before closing the door behind them to throw some clothes back on. Rick simply put the same pants back on, his old brown T-shirt, which had since been washed, and a button down, camel-colored shirt. All the while he dressed, he kept casting coy glances over at Georgie as she slipped on the same black jeans she had arrived to Alexandria, a snug black tank top and a blue, plaid button down shirt over it. Whether it was subconsciously done or not, the pair had seemingly made themselves over to look how they were before Alexandria than after it, as if they were going back to their survivalist roots via wardrobe.

They both sat down beside each other on the bed and pulled their boots on, and afterward Rick checked the time on his watch. There was still enough time before the meeting would start later, but the waiting around for it had made them begin to feel jittery, so Georgie went downstairs briefly to get a first aid kit Carol said was in the closet at the base of the stairs. When she returned with it, Georgie sat back down with Rick and dabbed antibiotic ointment back over the cuts on his face and then reapplied nine, new small bandages since the previous ones had come off in the shower.

All the while, Rick just sat there, watching her closely as she tended to him. It felt so nice; the little touches on his face and the overall attention she paid to his well-being.

It used to always feel like it was the other way around; that he was the one looking out for everyone one else, making sure they were okay. He was still getting used to the tables turning.

When she was down playing nursemaid to him, Georgie had laid back upon the bed with an arm under her head while Rick remained upright. It wasn't even ten seconds later when Carol knocked on the door and stuck her head in to say she was going to bring Jake a casserole to continue keeping up appearances.

Rick whipped his head around, insisting that might not be a good idea, but Carol just smirked and pulled out her knife.

"Trust me," she assured. "He won't try anything with me."

"Still," Rick insisted. "Be careful."

Georgie propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her friend. "Yeah, and don't kill Jake. Don't take that from us."

Carol nodded. "Oh, don't worry. I won't."

When Carol had left the room, leaving the door ajar, Rick looked back upon Georgie and then laid down beside her; both of their legs dangling over the end of the bed.

"Are you nervous about tonight?" Georgie asked.

"No."

"Liar."

Rick turned his head. "I'm not," he maintained. "I know what needs to be said and, if they won't listen, I know what'll have to be done."

"Well, I'll admit _I'm_ nervous," Georgie spoke, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with her hand as she looked at him. "I like this place for its sense of normalcy and for how it could be a safe place for our kids, for years to come, if the walls can be vigilantly maintained and protected. I don't necessarily _want_ to leave, but I _will_ if _you_ do. I will take my son, and you will take Carl and Judith, and we will leave this place and find somewhere else together, and with anyone else that cares to join us." Moving closer up to him, Georgie threw a leg between his and then lay partially onto his chest with a hand holding onto the side of his torso. "You know—united we stand, divided we fall, and all that."

Rick snaked an arm under her and around her waist to keep her there with him. He nodded at what she said and then glanced down at her. "If I knew you'd be safer here _without_ me than outside these walls _with_ me, I'd ask you to stay here with all three of the kids."

"And I wouldn't listen," she remarked stubbornly, resting her head down on his chest. "We made it this far. We can make it further."

Another knock at the door made them crane their heads back toward the door and untangle themselves from each other.

Carl was standing there, holding Judith in his arms, with Tristan standing just behind him. Both adults smiled at the scene and sat up.

"Sorry," Carl muttered at interrupting his father and Georgie talking.

They didn't mind.

It's not as if the kids had walked in on them in the middle of having sex. That was why Rick locked the bathroom door earlier.

"What's up?" Rick asked his son.

"I know you said you want us here tonight but is it okay if we went next door for a little while?"

"I don't see why not," Georgie remarked with a shrug. She looked at Rick to see if he was cool with it.

Catching her eye, Rick turned his gaze away from Georgie to Carl. "Yeah," he nodded. "But make sure you come back _here_ by the end of the night. And don't dally. I don't want any of you wandering around outside while the meeting's going on and we don't know how long or _extensive_ it's gonna get."

"Are you going next door now?" Georgie asked.

"No," Carl replied. "I was gonna feed Judith first."

Rick smiled proudly at his son and stood up. He reached forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and kissed his head and then Judith's head. "Your mother would be proud of how grown up you've become."

Carl smiled up at his father just as Tristan slipped into the room and ran up to his mother. Georgie pulled him up into her lap as he looked at her.

"What's gonna happen to dad?" he asked. "Is he gonna go away?"

"Do you _want_ him to go away?" she asked, catching both Rick and Carl's eyes.

"I think dad is a bad man who did a lot of bad things and bad people shouldn't be here," Tristan replied. "I'll be sad if he goes away, 'cause he's _still_ my dad, but dads are s'posed to be good guys, like superheroes. They're s'posed to take _protect_ their family, not _hurt_ them." Turning his head, he looked over at Rick. "Are you gonna protect us now, Rick?"

Rick smiled humbly and nodded. He extended a hand and placed it on top of the blonde, nine-year-old's head. "I am," he assured.

Tristan nodded back. "'Cause you're the good guy and you're gonna keep the bad guys away."

Rick and Georgie looked to each other at what a burden her child had just given Rick; to be Tristan's father figure now, to keep him and his mother safe — to keep _everyone_ safe.

"I'm gonna do my very best, Tristan."

"Okay." Tristan accepted Rick's word as face value. He hopped off his mother's lap and hugged her before walking up to Rick and hugging him, too.

Wrapping his hands around the boy, Rick smiled along with Georgie. Even Carl smiled. For the teen, in the last week, it would seem he _finally_ had a home again, and he had more or less gained a mother and a brother in the form of Georgie and Tristan.

"C'mon," the teen said to his new, surrogate brother. "Let's go feed Judith and get something to eat downstairs."

"Okay," Tristan agreed.

As both boys left the room with Judith, Rick and Georgie looked at each other again with proud smiles upon their faces. Rick took a seat back down beside Georgie on the end of the bed again, placing his hand upon her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Well," Rick began, "now I _definitely_ can't let 'em get rid of me. I gotta be here to keep my family safe."

Georgie smirked and rested her head upon his shoulder.

As usual for them, their privacy was interrupted, but it was nothing they weren't used to.

Michonne had approached and was standing in the doorway. "Rick. You ready?" she asked.

And suddenly Rick's shoulder's slouched a bit more with the weight of what would have to be done fell back onto his shoulders after forgetting all the seriousness of it for a few moments. He turned his head slightly in the other woman's direction as she looked between Rick and Georgie just sitting there.

"Carol, Daryl and me—we worked it out together," he confessed, turning his head fully to look at Michonne as she stepped into the room, holding her jacket in her hands. "Carol took three guns from the armory. _I _still have one, _she_ still has one." He sighed. "We lied to you because I wasn't sure how you'd take it—what you'd do." He stretched out his arm, holding the gun Carol had given him over to her.

Michonne tossed her jacket onto the bed and sighed. "You think I'd try to stop you?"

Rick dropped his arm when it looked like Michonne wasn't taking the gun from him anytime soon. "Well, you _did_ hit me over the head."

"That was for _you_, not _them_," she answered, almost sounding as if she was offended that he thought she wouldn't stick by him still after all this time.

Rick looked to his right, at Georgie, gave her leg another squeeze and then pushed himself up to his feet. He walked over to Michonne and looked her in the eye. "I was afraid you'd talk me out of it," he admitted. "You _could've_."

Michonne's expression and tone of voice softened. "We don't need them here. I don't need my sword," she remarked, as Rick cast a glance back over his shoulder at Georgie, but only briefly. "I think you can find a way. _We_ can find a way. And if we _don't_…I'm still with you."

Georgie smiled and looked over at the pair. When Michonne caught her eye, the two of them gave each other a silent look of solidarity; both in agreement that Rick was their leader and they would both follow him to the ends of the earth.

"Something's gonna happen," Georgie muttered, standing up and sidling up between the pair.

Michonne looked at Georgie, taking in what she'd said, and then back to Rick. "Just don't _make_ something happen."

Rick looked down at the gun still in his hand and handed it to Michonne, but she simply covered his hand with hers and pushed it back.

"Georgie made something for that," she mentioned, flashing the ginger-haired woman a knowing look. Stepping away, she grabbed her coat up off the bed and walked out the bedroom. "Don't be too long."

Rick was still looking down at the gun when he turned his body so that it was facing Georgie. "What'd you make?" he wondered, lifting his eyes up to her face.

Smirking slightly, Georgie held up a finger for him to wait a minute before walking over to her pile of dirty clothes on the floor that had been removed before their shower. Crouching down, she lifted up her pants and shoved a hand into one of the pockets, digging around for a few seconds. When she stood back up and approached him, she had her hand closed, but then she opened her hand, palm side up, to reveal the gold bullet.

Rick knitted his brow together, picking the bullet up with his free hand. "You made a bullet?" He seemed thoroughly impressed.

Georgie nodded, lifting her left hand and wiggling her fingers at him. "Notice anything different?"

Rick refocused his attention away from the bullet to her hand and then looked up at her face. "Your ring."

"Yep."

"You turned your wedding ring into a bullet?" He was even more impressed now, and definitely a little amused.

"Along with some other pieces of jewelry lying around that godforsaken house," she replied, rocking on the heels of her boots.

"This makes me feel guilty."

"Why?"

"You—taking this step, removing your ring," he commented. "I've been meaning to do the same. I find myself twisting mine around my finger, wanting to take it off, but something stops me."

"It's okay, Rick," Georgie insisted, placing her hands on his upper arms. "You loved your wife in the end and just because _I'm_ in your life now isn't gonna change the fact that you're still gonna miss her from time to time. There's absolutely no rush for you to take it off, but when you are, you don't have to do what _I_ did. You can put it around a chain and give it to Carl or Judith. Maybe Judith, because she never got to know her mother. I did what I did because my marriage was over and I will not mourn Jake. I didn't want the reminder anymore."

"It's like kismet, you making this bullet and giving it to me," Rick spoke, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. "See—this gun Carol gave to me this morning; it has no ammo. And this," he held up the bullet between both their faces, "happens to be the right size for this particular gun."

"Well," Georgie smiled. "Whether you use it or not, I want you to hold on to it." She curled his fingers around the bullet, encasing it within the palm of his hand, and then just holding onto his hand. "I took something that didn't feel good anymore and I turned it into something better for me, just like how _you're_ better for me." She watched how Rick just stared back at her, studying every inch of her face. Moving her hands up his arms to his shoulders, Georgie then moved her hands up so that her fingers could play with his curls at the base of his neck. "And I love you, Rick Grimes — no matter what happens."

Rick tipped his head forward and brushed his nose alongside hers before leaning down to kiss her. Enfolding his arms around her waist, while still holding the gun in one hand and the bullet in the other, he lowered his face to her shoulder and inhaled her scent and tried committing it to memory in case things went south for him during the meeting.

"I love you, too, Georgie Brant," Rick replied against the skin of her neck.

"Higgins."

"Hmm?"

"Higgins," she repeated. "It's my maiden name." When Rick lifted his head back from her neck, he looked at her and she smirked. "I kinda sorta publically divorced Jake last night. So I guess I'm Georgie Higgins again."

"Alright," he nodded. "Then, I love you, Georgie Higgins."

Georgie's smirk turned into a bright smile. Slapping Rick playfully on the chest, she leaned in and kissed him once more. "I think we should head out for the meeting now."

"You go ahead, save me a seat or something," he said. "I need a minute."

"I could wait for you," she offered.

"No, that's okay. I'll be there soon enough."

Georgie pouted slightly, but it was mixed with a slight smile in her eyes. "I kinda didn't want to walk into that meeting alone."

Rick leaned in and whispered in her ear, "You ain't alone no more." Leaning back, he smiled lovingly at her and gave her a nod of his head. "Go on. I'll be there."

With a nod of her own head, Georgie reached for her Rick's constable jacket. It was roomier than her leather jacket and it smelled like him. It was more of a comfort thing than anything. Slipping it on, she untucked her hair and threw a look over toward him and he winked back at her.

"Looks good on you," he admired.

"Looks better on _you_, Officer Handsome."

Once Georgie left the room, Rick sat back down upon the bed, and opened the chamber of the gun — a Walther P22 — and slid in Georgie's bullet. He then reached for his red-handled machete and pulled it out of its sheath; just staring at it for a while.

"…_and you're gonna find yourself in a place where it's like how it used to be. And if you let too much go along the way, that's not gonna work. 'Cause you're gonna be back in the real world."_

Bob's voice echoed in his memory as he put the machete back and then tucked it into the back of his pants; draping the back of his button down shirt over it.

"_This is the real world, Bob."_

"_Nah, this is a nightmare. And nightmares end."_

Walking over to the window, out toward the street, he didn't see Georgie, but he figured she had already made it to the meeting already. When his eyes lingered toward the gate, something looked off about it and he became immediately concerned.

Grabbing his suede leather jacket with its dirty fur collar, Rick hurried out of the bedroom.

* * *

It was dark out by the time everyone had gathered in the courtyard beside Deanna's home. Well, almost everyone. Glenn and Nicholas were missing, as were Sasha and Gabriel. But, more importantly, Rick still hadn't shown up. There was a fire crackling to provide both warmth and light as everyone talked among themselves or looked around waiting for the stragglers to finally arrive.

Standing off to the side with Michonne, Georgie had told her Rick had sent her ahead, assuring her he would be there for the meeting.

"We're going to start," Deanna announced.

"Can we wait?" Maggie asked. "There's still people coming. Glenn, Rick."

Deanna looked back at her and repeated, "We're going to start. It's already dark. We're going to talk about what happened. Not the fight. Not what precipitated it. We're dealing with that. We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people. And we're going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he'd be here."

Michonne gestured to Georgie. "She said he's coming."

"I'm sure he'll be here," Carol added with a smile. "And I'm sure we can work this all out."

Georgie folded her arms across her chest and shot daggers at Deanna. From what the older woman was saying, nothing Jake had done to her or before he arrived to Alexandria — the sole reason for Rick's intense behavior the day before — mattered.

It wasn't right.

One by one, members of Rick's group began speaking on his behalf.

"And after being out there and then not being how you _were_ out there…it can drive you crazy," Michonne was saying. "Rick just wants his family to live. He wants all of _you_ to live. Who he _is_ is who you're gonna be," she looked over at Deanna, "if you're lucky."

Carol stood up, her arms wrapped around herself as she took her turn. "Rick Grimes saved my life over and over. There's terrifying people out there. And he rescued me from them. People like me, people like us, _need_ people like him." Carol turned toward Deanna. "I know what happened last night was scary. And I'm _sure_ he's sorry for that. But maybe we should listen to what he was saying."

Georgie kept zoning in and out of the testimonies. She was starting to feel _so_ angry.

Why was _Rick_ on trial? Why wasn't _Jake_? Jake was the bad guy, not Rick.

Georgie could feel her nerves bouncing all over as she dropped her hands to her sides. Her hands shook so she balled up her fists and tried focusing on the flames from the fire.

"Simply put," Abraham stated, "there is a _vast_ ocean of shit you people don't know _shit_ about. Rick knows every _fine_ grain of said shit…and then some."

Georgie lifted her eyes to Abraham and followed his firm gaze over to Deanna and she was sure the woman caught her gaze as well when Maggie offered up her _own_ testimony.

"My father respected Rick Grimes. Rick is a father, too. He's a man with a good heart who feels the things he does, the things he _has_ to do. And all of us who were together before this place, no matter when we found each other, we're family now. Rick started that. And you won't stop it. You _can't_. And you don't _want_ to. This _community_, you _people_—that family, you want to be a part of it, too."

"Before we hear from anyone else," Deanna stated, "I—I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency. Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday and he said our new arrivals can't be trusted, that they were dangerous; that they would put themselves before this community. And not _one_ day later, Rick seemed to demonstrate _all_ the things Father Gabriel said. I had hoped Gabriel would be here tonight."

"I don't see him here, Deanna," Georgie finally spoke. "So you're just _saying_ what someone said. Did you _tape_ him?"

Maggie caught Georgie's eye and looked back at Deanna. "He's not here."

"Neither is Rick," Deanna retorted.

"Excuse me," Maggie said, taking leave of the meeting.

Georgie looked back, watching the younger woman leave before bringing her focus back to the older woman leading the meeting. She couldn't stand back anymore. She had to say her peace.

"I'm tired of this. This meeting is a _joke_," she declared, glaring right at Deanna. "You know what happened yesterday and _why_ it happened, and the wrong person is being put on trial here. Rick is a good man who has fought hard and tirelessly to keep his family safe. You don't know what it's been like out there. Ya'll been locked up in your ivory towers here for too long to know or remember what it's _really_ like; to have to live in that day in and day out. The walkers, the dead, aren't the only threat. We've encountered the worst of mankind several times and Rick was there to lead us out of it, never once thinking of himself."

Georgie stepped out from behind the chairs set up around the fire and took a more central place across the fire pit from Deanna so that the others could see her better and that she could see them as well.

"Jake arrived here with three other men about five months ago, and ya'll were so thrilled to finally have a doctor in your midst that you easily overlooked his association with the people he arrived with, letting him stay while the others were exiled, simply because he's a doctor and our son happened to have been brought here weeks before by Aaron and Eric. What ya'll don't know is the monstrous things Jake did prior to arriving here. I won't go into detail, but I will say Jake wasn't the innocent bystander among those men he apparently painted himself to be. He was their leader, and six months ago, while coming upon a home in Greensboro, he gave the orders to kill the innocent people already in that house who were asleep in beds or on sofas." Georgie focused on Carol for a moment before continuing. "My son was there and he recognized the hat Jake was wearing, and he committed it to memory. Jake murdered upwards of fifteen innocent lives, including two children who were friends of my son. Jake and those three men hid those bodies away in a panic room in the house's basement, and then they flipped the mattresses and cushions over and went to sleep as if nothing happened. My son and a woman he was with escaped, but my son _never_ forgot."

"That's true," Eric commented, speaking up. "Tristan told us about a man in a red Atlanta Braves hat that killed the group he was with when Aaron and I found him, alone, on the side of a road, outside of Charlottesville."

Georgie looked at him with indebted appreciation.

"A few days ago, my son found Jake's hat in his closet and realized Jake, his _father_, was the monster he feared in his dreams. And that is exactly what Jake is — a _monster_," she claimed. "He's _not_ a good man. Good men don't walk out on their families when the world falls apart like Jake did. Good men don't murder more than a dozen men, women and children in their sleep like Jake did. Good men don't threaten the lives of their wives and then beat and rape them like Jake did." Georgie pursed her lips together and took a steadying breath to keep herself together. "Rick was protecting me yesterday when the fight began, because _good_ men protect the ones they love. _Good_ men _save_ people. Rick is the best man you'll ever meet and you can all thank your lucky stars that you have been blessed with knowing him and having him here to help protect you, too."

Georgie looked around at all the faces, finding the most comfort in those of her own group within Alexandria that were present. Carol stood up again and put an arm around her in support as Tobin stood up as well.

"I just want to keep my family safe. You know? And I don't even know what that _means_ anymore, but if it means that we've got to get rid of—"

Whether or not he was going to say Rick's name, Jake's name or both, was anyone's guess.

Tobin was interrupted by Rick appearing in the entrance to the courtyard with a blood all over his face and jacket once again, but also with a body draped over his shoulder.

Without decorum, Rick tossed the body to the ground like a sack of potatoes, revealing it to be a dead walker, and everyone, aside from his group, seemed to leaned back or jump up to their feet in horror. He looked around at all the faces looking back at him and not at the walker.

"There wasn't a guard on the gate," Rick announced. "It was open."

Deanna snapped her head toward her son Spencer and he looked defensively back at her. "I asked Gabriel to close it."

"Go," she advised her only remaining son.

"I didn't bring it in. It got inside on its _own_," Rick continued. "They always _will_—the dead _and_ the living, because _we're_ in here. And the ones out there…they'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to _use_ us. They'll try to kill us. But _we'll_ kill _them_. We'll _survive_. I'll show you how." Rick looked around at everyone, focusing on Georgie a few times, but he was only addressing the Alexandrians as he itched at the blood that was starting to dry on his face. "You know, I was thinking—I was thinking how many of you do I have to _kill_ to save your lives? But I'm _not_ gonna do that. _You're_ gonna change." Stepping closer to Georgie, he took her hand and then focused his attention upon Deanna. "I'm not sorry for what I said last night. I'm sorry for not saying it _sooner_. You're not ready, but you _have_ to be. Right _now_, you _have_ to be. Luck runs out."

Turning away from Deanna and back to Georgie, Rick pulled her nearer to him, not giving a damn about what anyone in the community thought about him. He would've kissed Georgie right then and there, too, but with the all the walker blood and guts all over his face, in his hair and on his clothes, he wanted to spare her that messy transfer.

Footsteps approaching grabbed everyone's attention as they looked over toward the courtyard entrance to see Jake sauntering in, holding Michonne's katana.

Georgie's mind immediately went to wondering how he got it. It had been mounted above the fireplace at home where the kids were supposed to be. She panicked a little and just hoped the kids were next door in the second house still with Jake snuck in and stole the sword.

"You're not _one_ of us. You're not _one_ _of us_!" Jake shouted in a growling tone. He pointed the katana at Rick and Georgie. "She's _my_ wife, not _yours_."

Reg ran up to play mediator. "Jake, you don't want to do this."

"Get the hell away from me, Reg."

"Jake, just stop."

"Get _away_ from me!"

"Reg. Reg," Deanna was saying, trying to keep her husband back at a safe distance with Jake revealing the crazy person he truly was, the bad man Georgie had just said he was.

Rick held an arm out protectively in front of Georgie as he grabbed for his gun that he had tucked into the front of his pants as Carol leaned in to him.

"Not now," she whispered.

"Jake, _leave_," Georgie spat out. "You're digging your own grave here."

"_Shut up_, Georgie or I will _make_ you shut up, you whorin' bitch."

Rick's nostrils flared and he gripped his gun tighter as Reg maintained his position in front of Jake, trying to get the tall blonde man to back down and see sense.

"Now, Jake, _stop_."

"Get away," Jake growled at Reg.

"Jake—"

"_Get away_!"

Reg was cut off, no pun intended, when Jake pushed him back with the same hand holding the katana and slit his throat right open.

Deanna screamed and blood began gurgling out of Reg's neck as he fell back into his wife's arms. Abraham and Michonne were on Jake in seconds. Michonne stole her katana back with ease as Abraham grabbed Jake's arms and pinned him down to the ground, kneeling on his back.

"No, no! Oh, no, no!" Deanna cried out.

"This is him! This is him!" Jake continued to shout.

"Shut up!" Abraham shouted right back.

"This is him!"

Deanna was sobbing as her husband twitched and gasped for breaths that would not come. "Oh, God! Oh, my love. My love, my love," she cried. "No, my love, no. No, my love."

Both Rick and Georgie stepped forward as he held his gun at his side. Georgie reached a hand out and squeezed his wrist. Rick looked at her with a sigh.

This was the moment.

"It's him! This is him!" Jake continued to growl.

Looking over at Deanna, who was now holding a dead Reg, she looked up at Rick; abandoning her earlier position on the subject of execution within the community. It had to take her husband getting killed for her to see Rick was right.

"Rick, do it," she pleaded.

Rick held her gaze, and then looked at Georgie who nodded back at him.

"Do it," she agreed.

Without hesitation, Rick aimed his gun and fired Georgie's bullet into Jake's head without flinching. Several women within Alexandria screamed at the noise and the execution in general. Rick's group didn't. They were used to these things happening and they knew Jake deserved what he got after all he'd done, inside and outside of these walls.

As Rick lowered his gun, he looked at Georgie again and saw she seemed at peace with what just happened, and that was what mattered to him. That she was okay, physically and mentally. As if to prove she was fine with Jake being killed, Georgie stepped into Rick's arms, not giving any shits about the blood and the guts because she was going to be there through thick and thin with him; through good times and bad.

Since she didn't seem to care about getting dirty, Rick kissed her temple, as if to show appreciation for her sticking beside him.

"Rick?" came a voice at the entrance to the courtyard.

Everyone turned their heads, especially Rick, to find a black man standing there with Daryl and Aaron behind him, and he looked rather disappointed and shocked at what he clearly had just caught the tail end of.

Rick just stood there staring back.


	24. The Man I Knew

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here it is! Chapter 24, and the return of this story! This chapter and the next will both take place during the events of "First Time Again." Also, you've been warned that there is some serious mature content involved. I figured, since it's been so long since the last update (since May, or something), that you all deserved a little something-something. _PLEASE READ &amp; REVIEW!_ xoxo - Holly**

* * *

"_I never thought that you and I would ever meet again _

_I mourn the loss of you sometimes and pray for peace within _

_The word "distraught" cannot describe how my heart has been _

_But where do we begin now that you're back from the dead? _

_Where do we begin now that you're back from the dead? _

_Where do we begin now that you're back from the dead?" _

— Skylar Grey

* * *

The only light on in the house at the moment came from the chandelier over the dining room table and the similar light hanging over the kitchen island. The latter is where Daryl sat, shoving spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth from the side nearest the stove. The clink of the silver-plated metal utensil clinked around the porcelain bowl, offering the only sounds at the moment, until footsteps began to echo off the back hall, coming down the stairs. Moments later, Georgie emerged out into the kitchen with her arms folded across her chest and looked to her left; casting looks first at Daryl and then at the man named Morgan who sat across the island from the archer, nursing his own bowl of oatmeal.

Morgan flashed a small smile at her that was a mix of mere acknowledgement, kindness and respect; although, if she wasn't mistaken, Georgie was certain he was sizing her up a bit as well. However, she supposed it was no different than she had been doing to him ever since they'd left the Monroe's courtyard and returned to the main house.

Turning his attention away, Morgan set his own spoon down and looked over toward the dining room where Rick was standing, touching his bloodied fingers down upon and picking up a map. It wasn't just any map either. It was a map their group had all but forgotten about when they'd left it behind at Gabriel's church back in Georgia well over a month before. It was the map Abraham had given Rick with an apology for being an asshole and to come to DC because the world needed Rick Grimes.

Morgan shifted around on his stool. "You were right," he spoke. "It wasn't over."

Georgie had no idea what conversation must've passed between the two men in the past, but it had to have been a significant one by the way she watched how Rick turned and looked back at Morgan. She knew the name of Morgan, but only in passing. Rick had mentioned a man named Morgan to her only once, and that he had been there in the beginning to explain to him what had happened to the world. It was unlikely that this Morgan was a different Morgan.

Briefly, Rick cast his eyes upon Georgie and then back down at the map, folding it over and setting it back down on the dining table. "We should talk more tomorrow." Chewing on the inside of his bottom lip for half a moment, he turned and walked more into the kitchen. "Listen, I don't take chances anymore."

Georgie's eyes flitted back and forth between both men, and Daryl seemed immobile as he kept an eye on both men's body language.

Morgan nodded. "And you shouldn't," he agreed.

Rick stared back for a moment, considering the next course of action. He had a lot of things to think about now and there were going to be a lot of changes taking place within Alexandria now and, at the moment, he wasn't one hundred percent sure about Morgan. It had been many months since he'd seen him, almost a year, and a person can change drastically in that time. Rick knew that better than anyone. He just didn't know what kind of changes Morgan had gone through and how he came to leave Georgia and find Daryl and Aaron. He'd gotten the cliff notes version from the archer, but Rick's nerves were already a bit shot and not ready to accept his old friend with open arms.

"Where do you want me to stay for the night?" Morgan inquired. "Is there a place you'd think would be best?"

"So, you understand I can't have you under the same roof as my children right now?" It was posed as a question, but it was more of statement.

"I do." Morgan nodded again. "You gotta keep them safe and think of them first. I understand. I'd do the same. Hell, I _did_ do the same. I tied you to a bed if my memory serves correct."

Rick smirked, although only slightly, before he glanced at Daryl, and then back at Morgan. "There's an apartment in the sublevel of one of the townhouses where we can put you up for now. There isn't much. There's a mattress on the floor and it's comfortable enough. There's a bathroom and running water if you want to clean up."

"I don't require much. I've made it this far with nothing but the clothes on my back and my wits."

Daryl snorted out of amusement. "And that ninja stick of yours."

"That helped, yes," Morgan agreed, casting a small smile over his shoulder at the man who seemed incapable of keeping his hair out of his eyes.

"I'll take you there once you've finished eating," Rick continued.

"I can do it," Daryl offered.

Rick glanced at him, but shook his head. "Nah, that's okay." He attempted a smirk at his best friend. "You should stay here and take a hot shower. You've been gone a few days, and you smell like the dead."

"You been talking to Carol, haven't you?" Daryl quipped, standing up and setting his bowl in the sink before licking his fingers clean.

"They've been talking about things, alright," Georgie finally spoke up. "Not necessarily about your hygiene."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her and shrugged it off. "Alriight, fine. I'll get my ass in the shower if it makes y'all happy."

"It would make our nostrils happy," Georgie teased.

"So, then you probably would hate it if I hugged you and wiped my stink all over you," he said, advancing on her.

"Please don't," she replied, throwing her hands up in mock defeat.

"Too fucking late." Daryl walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her. Placing his cheek against hers he squeeze her tight as she wiggled around, pretending to be nauseated. He then turned his face and pressed his lips to her cheek, giving her a kiss before whispering, "I'm glad you're okay."

When he pulled back, Georgie looked the archer in the eye and could tell his own joking mood had vanished to give way to authentic concern. The injuries she'd received from her now-deceased ex-husband Jake were still as prominent as ever; the bruising and minor cuts would take at least a week to fade away. She knew Rick must've given him a brief rundown of what had happened in the last few days while she was upstairs putting Judith and the boys to bed.

She had told her son that his father had hurt Mr. Monroe and now they had both died. She refused to beat around the bush with him. Even though he was only just nine years old, he had seen enough since the outbreak began, and knew was aware of the man his father had become. There was no point in sugar coating any of it. From there on out, though, she would strive to give him back the childhood he deserved. Georgie was just thankful her son seemed adjusted enough to accept the news of his father's demise. If she wasn't mistaken, she would've assumed he looked relieved. It also helped that Tristan had Carl to share a bedroom with for now until the living arrangements got settled. Tristan would have someone there with him throughout the night he felt comfortable with if he got scared, and she sensed that Carl enjoyed having the company, after being used to sleeping in close proximity to so many people for so long.

Placing her hands on Daryl's shoulders, Georgie merely nodded back at him and smiled appreciatively at his concern for her well-being and returned the favor by leaning forward, pulling his head down and placing a kiss to his forehead. "I'm glad you're okay, too, Pigpen."

"Alright, alright," he remarked, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "I'm going."

Rick had watched the interaction between his friend and his lover, smiling slightly. When his blue eyes returned to Morgan, the other man nodded and stood up. Rick watched Morgan take his bowl to the sink and set it inside next to Daryl's bowl while Daryl gave a nod of goodnight to them all and then ascended the stairs.

"You can put your things back in your bag," Rick advised, gesturing to the belongings he had removed from Morgan's satchel, to inspect them in case Morgan _did_ pose an immediate threat. He sure as hell hadn't expected to find that map among the items. "Sorry about having to go through your stuff."

Morgan approached him and nodded. "It's okay. I understand," he spoked, stepping past Rick and over to the table. As he picked up the map in his own hands, thumbing it for half a second, he looked back up at Rick, as well as Georgie. "You don't take chances anymore."

* * *

No more than thirty minutes later, Georgie was standing at the kitchen sink, towel drying Morgan and Daryl's bowls that she had just finished washing when the front door clicked open and Rick walked inside. She turned and looked over her right shoulder, watching as he shrugged off his jacket and then drape it over his arm before closing the door behind him and making his way over to her.

"You took him to that empty apartment you were taken to, didn't you?"

Rick nodded. "We passed Michonne on the way there. She gave me the keys." Tilting his head slightly, he tried reading Georgie's face as she moved to put the bowls away in their proper cupboard. "Do you think I made the right decision locking him up there for the night?"

Georgie turned around, placing her lower back up against the edge of the countertop as she then gripped the edge with her hands. After a moment, she nodded. "I do," she assured. "We don't know where he's been or the kind of person he is now. All you know of him is what you _used_ to know. He could be as harmless as a Tibetan monk or he could be dangerous. We're in no position to be taking those risks right now. Things need to settle down here. The people here—the Alexandrians, if you will—have just been put through the ringer. We already agreed that they're not ready for the world out there and tonight was their wake-up call, but we can't force any more down their throats just yet. Given 'em a day or two to come to terms and then ease into it. We gotta do this the right way."

Rick narrowed his gaze, but there was lightness to his eyes as he nodded his head in agreement. She'd more or less taken the words out of his mouth and he enjoyed the fact that they were of like minds.

Stepping closer to her, Rick reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, where he noticed some slight bruising from when Jake had gotten rough with her. His touch, however, was nothing but gentle. "How are you doing?" His jaw clenched slightly; his mind reeling back to his fight with Jake and the rage he felt over what her ex had done to her, mixed with the anger over what Jake had done to a good man like Reg; whether or not it had been an accident. Everything else Jake had done before then hadn't been an accident. "You doing okay?"

Georgie looked down at her wrist and his hand and nodded. "Are _you_?"

When their eyes met, Rick sighed. "I didn't lose any more people I cared about tonight and I might've made some headway with the people here, so I'd say I'm doing just fine."

"Are you really?"

Rick removed his hand from her wrist and flexed his fingers, staring down at the blood and overall grime plastered on his skin. His right hand, in particular, he had shoved up into the underside of a walker's head before blowing its brains out. He felt a little bad even touching her in such a state, hating to get her dirty.

"To be honest, I'm feeling a bit anxious," he admitted. "The gate being left open like it was. It's not just that walkers got in so easily because of it, but how easily _anyone_ could get in. When I saw the gate open and the signs that something got in, I went running around this place. There was more than just the one I brought to the meeting. I got scared. And with everything else that's happened, I guess I'm just a little on edge."

Georgie looked away from his face and back to his hands, which she noticed were shaking slightly. Reaching out, she took his hands in hers and held them tight; not minding the dried blood and dirt sticking to his skin. Rick's own gaze fell upon their linked hands, and then traveled the length of her arms, and up to her face.

It felt like his heartbeat had been racing all night, but now, with her touch, calmness washed over him.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rick released a small breath. "I should take a shower, too."

Georgie smiled. "Yeah, you're pretty disgusting," she teased. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but I think you smell worse than Daryl."

Rick opened his eyes back up and snickered. "I feel dirtier, too."

Slipping her hands away from his, she lifted her arms up and placed her hands on either side of Rick's face instead. "Go wash up," she advised. "I'm gonna straighten up down here for a bit; wait for Michonne to get back from walking the fence, and then I'll lock up for the night."

Rick nodded. "Don't wait up too long," he suggested, walking slowly off toward the back hall. "We both had a long day."

"Don't I know it," she quipped at his retreating form.

* * *

Another thirty minutes later, Rick stood in front of the sink in the master bathroom. He was freshly cleaned again; all the blood, guts and grimes washed away down the drain even though his anxiety remained. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he stared at his reflection long enough to frown at himself and look away. On the floor beside the shower stall were his soiled clothes which he was tempted to build a fire for and burn, but he couldn't help but figure Carol had some magic up her sleeve and knew how to wash those clothes and make them look virtually knew again. She sure as hell had plenty up her sleeve when it came to fooling the Alexandrians and making them think she was just an average, everyday post-apocalyptic Martha Stewart.

Grabbing a towel off the rack, he wrapped it firmly around his waist before running the fingers of his right hand through his hair to slick it back off his face. He turned away from the sink and grabbed his clothes off the floor, grimacing at the smell coming off them and tossing them straight into the hamper. He'd worry about their cleanliness tomorrow.

When Rick opened the door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom, he wasn't too surprised to find Georgie sitting on the bed, brushing through her thick, ginger locks and wearing only an over-sized T-shirt which hid the fact that she was wearing underwear underneath.

"Feel human again?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"I do," he replied, walking over to the dresser and opening the top drawer; pulling out a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt for himself to wear.

The fact that he had clean things to readily where now still felt quite odd. It was nice not having to wear the same things for days or weeks on end. Getting used to smelling like fragrant soap instead of decay and other body odors was a literal breath of fresh air.

"Don't bother putting any of that on just yet," Georgie remarked, standing up to her feet. Walking over to the bedroom door, she set it on lock and then turned and threw him a look over her shoulder, noticing his confusion right away. She smiled at the look on his face. "Sit down on the bed for me, will ya?"

Curious, Rick obliged her and stalked over toward the bed. He held onto the towel around his waist with one hand as he sat down; very un-gentlemanlike, the way his legs seemed incapable to being kept closed. Watching as an impish grin began to form upon her lips, Rick raised an eyebrow at her.

"I just shot Jake dead no more than two hours ago," he muttered. "How are you so calm right now?"

Georgie shrugged. "The Jake I knew died a long time ago," she answered. "The man you killed was just another monster who got what he deserved. I have shed all the tears I will ever shed for him and my love for him belongs to the days before the outbreak. He holds no claim on the person I am now or on my future." Slinking up to him with slow, calculating steps, Georgie tossed set her brush down on the bedside table and then placed her hands on his shoulders and she stood between his legs; looking down at him as he looked up. "You get the person I am now and you get to be my future."

A content smiled spread to Rick's lips and his gaze softened, feeling a little less anxious already because of her. "You're like a glass of lemonade on a hot day, you know that?"

"Yeah?" she smirked as she slowly began to kneel down in front of him.

His senses were immediately alerted to the change in the air between them, causing a certain part of his anatomy to twitch awake. The beating of his heart began to quicken once more, but for an entirely different reason.

"Yeah," he confirmed, his gaze darkening while his eyes began to dilate. "And you taste just as sweet."

Biting her bottom lip, Georgie nodded back at him in a way that made it seem like she wasn't actually listening to him because she was distracted, and he wouldn't be entirely wrong in assuming that about her at the moment. She _was_ dragging her eyes down from his face and focusing on the towel around his waist, and her hands has moved from his shoulders; her fingers grazing his bare chest as they worked their way down to the soft, terrycloth material.

Subconsciously, Rick's hands reached out for her arms as he watched the way she began to undo the towel from his waist with delicate fingers; taking her time as if she knew the anticipation was killing him and she thrived off the new form of anxiousness she was creating in him.

When the towel was pried open and draped down upon the bed on either side of his narrow hips, Georgie glanced up through her eyebrows and he sucked his bottom lip inward with anticipation. All he could do was sit there, stock still, as he watched he leaned closer and wrap her hand around his stiffening manhood.

"Still feeling on edge?" she asked, stroking his length with her hand.

"Not exactly," he replied with a low, shaky chuckle.

"What can I do to calm you down, then?"

"Oh, I think you have a pretty good idea already."

Smirking, Georgie licked her lips and then lowered her head down and circling her tongue around his tip. The first initial touch sent a small shiver up his spine and, instinctively, he moved his hands to her head, snaking his fingers through those fiery tresses of hers. While he began to massage her scalp with his own anticipation, she took him into her mouth, sucking hard as she worked her way down his length. Tipping his head back a bit, Rick closed his eyes. Sliding her mouth back up his cock, she made a wet popping sound with her lips when she pulled away from him.

For a moment, he practically whimpered like a wounded puppy, but was quickly contented again when he opened his eyes and looked down to see her still holding him in her hands and dragging her tongue up and down his frenulum. His toes began to curl and gripped her hair tighter with his fingers, and when she began to work on his balls, he about died.

"Fuck," he muttered; bringing a humming chuckle from her which, in turn, he easily felt the delicious vibrations of. "Oh…Georgie…"

Bringing her tongue back up the underside of his erection, she returned her mouth down around him again, bobbing her head up and down in faster motions. It didn't take long for him the pleasure she was giving him to culminate in a shattering release, making him feel like he was painlessly burning alive from the inside out.

Rick's eyes saw stars for a moment while his vision simultaneously blurred as he spilled his warm seed into her mouth.

When he was able to focus on her face again, he grinned happily down at her and placed both of his hands on either side of her face as he watched her swallow and lick her lips clean, which was so incredibly sexy to him. Leaning down, he placed his own lips upon hers, tasting remnants of himself as he slipped his tongue in.

Once again, he felt his heartbeat settle down as the waves of his orgasm ebbed away. However, he didn't want the moment between them to end right then and there and needed to keep the momentum going.

"C'mere," he mumbled against her lips.

Sliding his hands down and encircling her waist, Rick hoisted her up and pulled her down on top of his as he fell backward against the mattress. It was a graceless move but he wasn't trying to impress her anyone other than her. Rolling over so that she was on the bottom, Rick ground his hips down against hers while maintaining his hold around her upper body and captured her lips again with his own. He was beginning to feel like he couldn't get enough of her lips. When his tongue found hers, he made sweeping, swirling motions inside her mouth while dragging on of his hands down the side of her body and resting it between them. With deft fingers, he slipped his hand down the front of her panties and began stroking her clit with the rough pad of his tongue, eliciting a small whimper from her throat that was such a lovely sound to his ears.

As Rick moved to slip two fingers inside her folds, feeling the moistness waiting for him already, he felt himself hardening again. Her increasingly incessant groans he kept muffled with his lips as not to disturb the other occupants of the house, but doing his best not to stop the movements he was making with his fingers, darting them in and out of her.

Her groans and whimpers were starting to turn into pants and little squeaks here and there and just when she was about to reach her orgasm, Rick cruelly removed his fingers, thereby stealing that release from her when she was so close. Opening her eyes and looking up at him with confusion and a flush lips that were puffed up from kissing, Georgie laid there and watched as he looked back at her with apologetic eyes.

"Sorry, hold on," he muttered.

Leaning up on his knees, he grabbed at her panties and began to slide them down her legs. Once he had them off her completely, he dropped them over the edge of the bed and then moved his hands to her shirt, lifting it up and pulling it up over her head with her assistance. Tossing the shirt away as well, Rick lowered his body back down, but only slightly, to whisper in her ear.

"Turn over," he urged. "Get on your knees."

Biting her bottom lip, she began to grin up at him with lust-filled eyes. Complying with his request, Georgie rolled over onto her stomach and then pushed herself up to her hands and knees; immediately greeted by Rick pressing his returned erection along her ass. He rubbed himself against her, grabbing her by the hips and digging his fingers into her soft flesh, but not too roughly that it hurt. Removing one hand from her hip, he took hold of his cock and dragged it along the crack of her ass and then down along her folds while she began to rock back against him, craving him inside her.

"Rick," she started to whine.

"Shh, I know," he replied, wanting her just as much. He would _always_ want her just as much.

Pressing his tip against her damp entrance, Rick easily slipped himself right in until he was completely buried within her. Her inner walls instinctively contracted and tightened around him, as if claiming him in the name of vaginas everywhere.

Rick moved his hands along the soft, plumpness of her ass; massaging the thicker flesh and gripping her firmly as he pulled her further down upon him. As he began thrusting in and out of her, at a slower pace at first, he reached one hand around to her stomach and coaxed her up off her hands. Rick leaned back so that he was no longer just kneeling but sitting on his shins. Georgie knelt in front of him and then sat down upon the lap he'd created for her, still thrusting deeply up inside of her while she tried reaching around to hold on to him somehow.

Sensing she need to touch him in any way, shape or form, Rick wrapped an arm around her waist, which quickly grabbed onto as a sort of brace. And it was good timing, too. Because when Rick brought his other hand down to her clit again, Georgie would've lost her balance and fallen forward from the sensations he was causing inside of her.

The pair rocked together on the bed, in the darkness of their bedroom, with nothing but the sounds of their quiet grunts, ragged breaths and the slight creaking of the mattress underneath them to fill the air, which was quickly filling with the scent of musky sex. Because she had been so close before, it took no time at all for Georgie's orgasm to arrive.

When the moment happened, it was so dizzying that, for half a second, Georgie had thought she would lose consciousness. She could feel the fluttering in her abdomen while her inner muscles spasmed around him.

Removing his hand from her mound, Rick brought it up to her head, which he turned so that they could kiss while she rode her orgasm out. His pace, however, didn't slow because he was still working on his own, second orgasm of the night, which didn't take much longer to achieve.

When he came, his body shuddered and stiffened against her, filling her once again.

Slowly, they came down from their sexual highs and Georgie fell forward onto the mattress in a satiated heap. Rick followed after, laying on top of her at first, pinning her to the bed with his body weight. As he slipped out of her, he rolled over onto his back and just laid there, looking up at the ceiling while a faint amount of moonlight suddenly appeared from behind a few clouds and entered in through the bedroom windows, bathing them both.

After a moment, Georgie reached her arm across Rick's chest which was slick from the sweat he'd built up with her and pulled her body up against his. She then rested her head down upon his chest, placing a few kisses along his collarbone and up his neck. He met her halfway, turning his head toward her so that their lips could meet in a long, deep kiss.

"I think that was better than this afternoon on the bathroom floor," she teased, slowly drawing circles on his chest as she draped a leg between his.

Rick slipped an arm under shoulders and pulled her even closer against him. "Definitely in the top five."

Georgie chuckled. "This is only our fourth time."

"Well, then I'm not exactly wrong."

His reply made her laugh even more, and he swallowed the pleasantly infectious sound with his lips; again not wanting to wake or disturb anyone else in the house, especially their children.

"I look forward to the fifth time, then," she commented after a few moments of silence had passed between them.

"Me, too."

"I don't want you to treat me like a porcelain doll, though."

Rick leaned his head back slightly to get a better look at her face, which was easier to do in the appearance of the moonlight. "What do you mean?"

"Today; this afternoon and just now," she spoke quietly. "I could sense you holding back."

"Was I?"

"Remember our first time at the Pantry, and then in my bedroom at the other house? Those times neither of us held back."

"You weren't injured then like you are now."

"I was still bruised pretty badly our first time from when Aaron pushed that car door into me."

"That was a different injury. This," he brought a hand up to her face, brushing gently over the bruising that had been administered by Jake, "is different. He did a horrible thing to you. The fact that you even want to be like this with me right now is still surprising to me."

"Because you're not him," she insisted, a little grateful that Rick didn't mention Jake by name. She had come to hate the name and God help the next man they came across who shared the same name. The poor bastard would no doubt be unfairly judged for that one commonality alone. "You're Rick, and that means a world of difference. You're the hero, he was the villain."

"I don't always feel like a hero," he muttered, staring up at the spot of the ceiling where two of the walls came together.

"There hero never really does," she smirked, leaning her face down and pressing her lips to his chest. "Just know that you are one."

Silence fell between them again, but it was comforting silence.

They were listening only to the sounds of each other briefly and, with her head down upon his chest again, Georgie was listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"You seem calmer now," she remarked after a few more moments.

"Thanks to you."

Georgie smiled. "I do try."

Turning his face away from corner of the ceiling, Rick's blue eyes fell back upon Georgie and he pressed his lips into her hair. "I love you."

Those words would never stop sounding amazing to her. "I love you, too," she replied.

* * *

The next morning, Rick was up and dressed for the day in clean clothes, except for his black jeans. He knew they were dirty and needed to be washed, but they were comfortable and felt like an old friend, as silly as that may have sounded. He told himself he would wash them that night and wear something different, like sweatpants or whatever else was available, until the jeans were clean. He figured it wouldn't take longer than two hours to wash and dry them and he could go without for that short amount of time. He also knew that if he verbalized this to anyone they might look at him like he was crazy.

Then again, it couldn't be any worse than several of the Alexandrians already viewed him.

Sauntering out the front door and down the steps, he looked upon Daryl who was tinkering with the bike Aaron had given to him.

"So, is he okay with it?" Daryl questioned, referring to Morgan's temporary confinement. He had gone up to shower and to bed before Rick and left with the other man, so he never got to ask about how it all went.

"It was pretty much his idea," Rick replied, fastening his gun belt around his waist. "He gets it."

"It's got a bed and a bath, but it's still a cage, you know?"

Rick nodded his head a bit. "He gets it," he assured. "He told me what happened out there with the trucks."

Daryl stood up. "He tell you about those guys he met?" he asked, pointing to his forehead. "The W's."

"Like that walker we saw, yeah," Rick confirmed. "We need more watch points. And I'm gonna tell Deanna we don't need to go looking for people anymore."

There was an obvious hesitation from Daryl as he nodded and looked away. From up on the porch of the main house, Georgie stepped outside with Judith on her hip, letting the warmth of the morning sun shine down upon them as she looked down upon the two best friends deep in conversation.

"You feel different about it?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, I do," Daryl replied, nodding more.

"Well, people out there, they got to take care of themselves, just like us." Rick gestured toward the fences with a slight tilt of his head. Then, back on the subject of Morgan, he added, "I'm gonna get him out. Shouldn't leave him in there any longer than we have to."

Stepping around Daryl's bike, Ricked looked up toward the house and let his lips turn upward into a warm smile as he acknowledged two of his favorite girls.

"You boys playing nice, I hope," Georgie teased.

Lifting his left leg, he rested it upon the second step from the bottom and gripped the railing with his right hand which had fresh bandaging around it that had been put there by Georgie not even twenty minutes before, along with new, little white bandages over the cuts on his face. They had all been soiled from the blood and gore he'd found himself covered in the night before and taking a shower had loosened the previous bandages up and made them fall off while he was cleaning up.

Rick nodded up at her. "I'm headed up to go get Morgan out. Figure I'll show him around Alexandria," he informed. "Wanna come with?"

Georgie gestured to Judith on her hip. "I was gonna feed her first. You go on ahead, though," she insisted. "I'll catch up, and if I don't, well…I know where you live."

Rick looked down at the wooden stairs and snickered. "Yeah, you do." Looking back up at her with a smile, he winked and then waved at his daughter whole beamed happily back at him.

Taking a few steps back away from the stairs, Rick looked over his shoulder at Daryl before taking off up the road toward the townhouses.

* * *

A short while later, Rick was walking side by side with Morgan, having looped the entire perimeter of the community and returning back where they started at the townhouses. During the entire walk, they had talked about superficial subjects mostly; about whom everyone in Rick's group was, touching mostly upon who Georgie was and Morgan expressing that he was glad Rick had found someone to love again after losing his wife, Lori.

"Who put up the wall?" Morgan inquired.

"They did," Rick answered. "There was a man, Reg. He drew up plans, made it happen early on. A lot of people in here. They've been inside from the start. They had food, energy, not a whole lot of walkers. They just lived. They haven't had to survive. They figured that out, brought us in. Still might be too late."

"Too late how?"

Rick stopped walking for a moment. "For them to come around. We'll see," he muttered. "You'll have to talk to Deanna. She's the woman in charge. She was married to Reg."

"Was?"

As Rick was about to answer, he spotted Gabriel moving behind some shrubbery where the community's small cemetery was. "Yeah," he spoke; stalking off to see what was going on as Morgan quickly followed. Stepping around the evergreen shrubs, with his right hand absentmindedly hovering over his holstered Colt, he found Gabriel assisting Tobin in digging graves. "What are you doing?"

Both Gabriel and Tobin stood upright as Gabriel looked nervously back at Rick. "We're, uh…I wanted to help." He was well aware that Rick knew of the lies he'd told Deanna about Rick's people. A few people knew now and he was more nervous around them than ever.

"We only need one," Rick spoke to Tobin, gesturing to the graves.

Tobin seemed dumbfounded as he pointed to the two bodies of Reg and Jake which were covered in tarp. "We have two men here."

"We're not gonna bury killers inside these walls."

"I understand how you feel. I do. But it's not your decision."

"Tobin."

All four men turned to see Deanna approaching from around the trees, and Georgie was a few paces behind her with her arms folded across her chest, staring darkly down upon the tarp covering Jake's body.

"Rick's right. Take it away," Deanna asserted. "Go west, down Branton Road a few miles. Just past the bridge. We don't go out that way. Let the trees have him."

As she walked away, Georgie looked over her shoulder, letting her gaze follow the older woman for a moment before returning her attention toward Jake's body. Rick glanced at her and she nodded, indicating she agreed with what Deanna said on what to do. Nodding back at her, Rick walked up to Jake's body and Morgan followed; both men grabbing the dead man up at opposite ends.

"I'll get car keys from Deanna," Georgie announced, slipping around the trees to catch up with the walled community's grieving leader. "Deanna."

The older woman slowed and stopped, turning to look at the redhead. "I'm sorry if you think my decision on where to put Jake's body is harsh. Rick is right. Jake was a killer and I made the mistake of letting him stay here as long as I did. I should've banished him with the others he arrived here with months ago."

"No," Georgie muttered. "I was just going to ask you for car keys so we can get rid of Jake's body."

Deanna stared back at her, as if trying to figure the younger woman out as if she was some fantastic puzzle. "Don't you mourn him? He was your husband."

"My husband, the Jake I loved, died just after the outbreak when he abandoned my daughter and me. When I found his truck in the middle of a road, with blood in and around it, and with him nowhere to be seen, that's when he became dead to me," Georgie explained. "The man back there, wrapped in tarp, wasn't the Jake I knew. That man was an evil man who did evil things and got away with it for too long. He got what he deserved."

With a solemn nod, Deanna looked off forlornly toward her home. "I'm sorry he hurt you the way he did. I should've done something."

"Yes, you should've," Georgie agreed, not bothering to mince words. "But it's alright. I'll forgive you. You're dealing with some terrible losses right now and I'm not gonna hold a grudge at a time like this. It's in the past. And I'm sorry about Reg," she added. "He was a really good man. I liked him."

"Thank you." Looking back at Georgie, Deanna gestured for her to follow. "Come on. I'll get you some keys."

With a faint smirk, Georgie walked after the former politician as she continued onward toward her townhouse.

* * *

The same jalopy of a car that Rick and Georgie had arrived to Alexandria in with Michonne, Carl and Judith was now the same car they were traveling down Branton Road with Jake's corpse in the trunk. Like their arrival, Rick drove and Georgie occupied the passenger seat. The noticeable change was that Morgan sat behind her in the backseat watching the trees pass by his window. A small bridge that connected the road together over a small creek loomed ahead as Rick kept his eyes on the road.

Occasionally he averted his eyes to the rearview mirror, casting a glance in Morgan's direction or just behind the vehicle in general. He drove with one hand most of the way, letting his right rest upon the console between him and Georgie; a hint she caught onto rather easily and laced her fingers with his.

After crossing the bridge and going about a hundred yards further up the road, Georgie nodded toward a section of trees to their right.

"That's as good a place as any."

"I gotta say, Georgie," Morgan voiced from the backseat, "I know I might be overstepping here, but I'm a little surprised you're going along with burying your husband here."

"You were married, right, and a father?" She questioned as Rick slowed the car down to a stop along the side of the road. "I noticed the ring on your finger."

"I was."

"It's safe to assume your wife and child died?"

"Early on, yes. The fever took her. And then she…she took my boy."

"I'm sorry." Georgie nodded, keeping her eyes forward. "Well, imagine your wife never died and she just abandoned you and your son, and then your son gets bit and dies in your arms and you have no one else."

Rick winced slightly and leaned in toward her. "That is was to his son."

"Well, shit. Sorry again," she muttered apologetically. "Okay, bear with me here. I swear I'm making a point. Imagine you also have another child out there in the world and you don't know if they're alive or dead and your wife just decided to give up looking for that other child, telling you to accept that they're most likely dead. So, you go out into the world, doing whatever you can to look for them. Eventually you find good people who help you forget how sad your life without your children was and give you a new purpose. And then you come to this place that's safe and protected and you've fallen in love with the leader of this group you'd been with." Georgie glanced at Rick who smiled slightly back at her. "You start to settle in, prepared to make this new life work, and then you hear a child call to you, and it's the child you thought was dead, and then your wife appears, also alive and well."

"I'm not hearing the downside just yet," Morgan remarked.

"Oh, give it a minute," Rick quipped.

"Your child arrived before your wife. He was found alone on the road, having witnessed dangerous men slaughter his friends and the other people keeping him safe, so now he has nightmares. But you're there now and you can make him feel safe again. Your wife seems fine at first but then she blackmails you into staying with her, even though you haven't forgiven her for abandoning you and your children. And when you try to call her out on it, she threatens to keep your son away from you because you're new to the this place and she has social standing there and the people would rally behind her and not you." Georgie looked down at her hand, at her wrist specifically, where her bruising was fading a little more. "So you agree to stay there and not with the person you love now, for the sake of providing your child with some stability again. Then your wife's façade cracks and reveals she is a dangerous person now. She's done terrible things—very terrible things—since you last saw her, and she can physically hurt you, and that scares you. So you pretend everything is fine, because you're worried about how your son will handle things. And she has a jealous streak. Doesn't like you even just _talking_ to that person you love now without going off on you in a jealous rage."

"Why wouldn't I just leave with my son?" Morgan questioned, going along with the scenario.

"You are. You finally decided you're done with it and then she comes home and attacks you. You try running away, to just get away, but she catches up and she shoves you into the bedroom and tells you it's time to earn your keep. She punches you in the face, knocks you out cold, and in the time you're unconscious, she beats and rapes you and then locks you in bedroom."

"And while you're unconscious, she gets drunk and comes over to the house of the person you love and offers them a beer, pretending like they can be friends, knowing all the while she has you locked in her bedroom, beaten and bloodied," Rick added, touching upon a part of what had happened between him and Jake that Georgie hadn't even known happened.

She looked at Rick and furrowed his brow, as if silently asking if that really happened. Off Rick's quiet nod, she looked away toward the dashboard. "You wake up and it's nightfall; hours have passed. You try getting out of the bedroom but the door is locked or barricaded. You're not sure. You call for help but no one is home to answer your cries. Then you find something in the closet that proves your wife was one of those terrible people that took part in the slaughter of your son's friends; that she killed men, women and children alike without a care. You get away, though. You break out of the bedroom, and you're hurting all over, physically and mentally. And then, you reach the person you love. Even though you pass out afterward, you know you're okay now; you're safe, you got away."

"Not long after there's a confrontation between the three of you; you, your wife and the person you love. Your wife attacks the person you love and they fight; end up going through the picture window and punching the fuck outta each other in the street," Rick relays, a slightly guilty smirk tugging at his lips. "Then Michonne—I mean, a _friend _punches the person you love unconscious because they're waving a gun at innocent people in their anger over trying to protect you and just a lot of other things that have been building up."

Morgan nodded and let out a small grunt. "I think I can understand what happened," he insisted. "Jake was a bad man who did bad things. I'm sorry for what he did to you, Georgie." Leaning forward, he gripped onto the back of her seat and gestured to her face. "I assume that was his handiwork."

"It is."

Morgan turned his attention to Rick then. "You fought Jake to keep her safe because of what you realized he was doing. Killing him because he killed Deanna's husband wasn't your only motive."

"I was going to kill him regardless," Rick commented.

Georgie glanced over her shoulder, looking at Morgan. "I made a special bullet out of my wedding ring for him to use on Jake," she informed. "We couldn't just let him go back out into the world or lock him within Alexandria. He could've gotten out on his own or hurt someone else. In the old world people were sentenced to death for the kinds of things Jake did in the new world."

"He didn't deserve the life he had."

Morgan looked between the pair and leaned back. There was something in his posture that suggested he still wasn't convinced Jake should've been killed. Subdued and punished, maybe; but not killed.

"All life is precious," he muttered.

Rick looked back at Morgan with his peripheral vision, and then opened the car door. "No it ain't."

The three of them climbed out of the car and stepped behind to the trunk, which Rick opened up. Inside wasn't just Jake's wrapped up body, but also some shovels as well as a first aid kit Rosita sent them off with just in case of an injury. Georgie reached forward over Jake's body, holding her breath to avoid the stench that was already beginning to permeate from him, she grabbed the shovels and stepped back. Rick and Morgan then grabbed either end of Jake's body and lifted him out while Georgie closed the trunk after them.

They stopped for a moment, looking around to make sure the trunk shutting didn't draw any walkers out from the trees, and then continued down the incline from the road into the woods. Once they set the body down, Morgan took both shovels from Georgie and Rick turned to her, placing a hand on her arm.

"Why don't you stay up near the car, keep an eye out for anything?"

"I'd rather not."

"I know you'd rather not." He stared her in the eye and, after a moment, she relented. With a smirk, Rick leaned in and placed a kiss to the corner of her lips and then pressed his forehead against hers for a moment. "We'll take care of this and when we get home, we'll relax with the kids, okay?"

Georgie smiled and nodded. "Okay," she answered, giving him another kiss before turning and making her way back up the incline; using a few narrow trees to help her along.

Making his way up to Morgan, Rick shrugged and gestured to the overgrowth. "Maybe we just leave him here," he said, referring to Jake's body.

Morgan smiled a little. "That's not who you are." He shook his head and turned away with both shovels. "I know."

Rick wasted no time following after. "Hey," he called out. When Morgan turned back to look at him, Rick steeled up somewhat. "You don't."

Tossing the second shovel to the ground and dropping his satchel beside it, Morgan went about beginning to dig Jake's grave, regardless of Rick's feelings about it.

As he began to watch the other man start to work, sounds wafted through the trees on the breeze that suddenly alerted Rick's senses. He turned away from Morgan and peered off through the overgrowth, narrowing his gaze and straining to hear better; to focus on what it was he was hearing.

"Morgan. _Morgan_." When the other man refused to cease his movements and catch on to what he was sure he was hearing, Rick walked up to Morgan and grabbed his arm. "Stop. You hear that?"

Turning up toward the road, Rick saw that Georgie was safely seated on the hood of the car and then gestured for Morgan to follow him through the woods a bit. Grabbing his satchel back up and his "ninja stick", as Daryl amusedly referred to it as, Morgan obliged Rick. They traipsed off together, not very far from Jake's body at all, coming out to a slight clearing that reveal a cliff of sorts.

What was unsettling was that the cliff was high up above a quarry that was swarmed with possibly thousands of restless walkers that were blocked in by two sets of two large semi-trucks at both entrances.

As both men took in the sight before them, the snapping of a branch behind them in the woods and a more distinct snarling entered their ears.

Within the trees, Georgie was running.

She had come down into the slight ravine when she realized Rick and Morgan were missing and tried to find where they'd gotten off to when a few walkers came out from amid the trees. She cursed herself because she had left her weapons in the car and was unarmed, so her only choice was to run and get away.

In the process, while looking back over her shoulder to check on how much distance she'd put between her and them, Georgie made the clichéd move of tripping over a damn branch and falling forward onto the ground. The wind was only momentarily knocked out of her and she clambered back up to her feet, taking off in a sprint toward the cliff she didn't know was there.

Before she nearly went over the edge, Rick came out of nowhere and tackled her out of the way as two of the walkers plummeted down to the rocky bottom.

Once more, the air was knocked from her lungs, but the fact that it was Rick who had done it to save her made it better. He rolled over onto his back; the both of them looking skyward, just as the other walkers came shambling forward. Rick withdrew his Colt and shot one in the head, sending it tumbling over the edge while Morgan appeared with his stick and knocked the other over.

Climbing back up to his feet, Rick reached his hand out and pulled Georgie up beside him. As he holstered his gun, he gave Morgan a nod of thanks for his assistance and the three of them looked back toward the quarry together.

"You alright?" Rick asked Georgie.

"Yeah," she muttered a little breathlessly.

"What happened to staying at the car and keeping lookout?"

She looked over at him and could tell he seemed a bit unnerved. "I looked through the trees and didn't see either of you. I got worried, so I came looking for you, and then those walkers appeared and I didn't have my knife or gun to take care of them."

"You should _always_ have at least your knife on you, at _all_ times," Rick growled at her. "You should _know_ that by now. After _everything_ we've been through."

"And _you_ should've told me where you two were going instead of just wandering off like a pair of children," she responded just as shortly; giving as well as she was received.

Morgan sighed. "What matters is we're fine." Taking his binoculars from his satchel he brought them up to his eyes and peered through.

"This is how," Rick muttered, getting back to the subject at hand.

"How what?" Morgan questioned, feeling a little anxious about the sea of walkers.

"How the community's still here. They've had walkers at their walls, but a lot of them, maybe most of them, wound up here."

Releasing a sigh from her lips, Georgie turned around and began to walk back toward the woods. Rick noticed her leaving and darted over to her, grabbing her arm and turning her around to face him.

"Hey, don't just leave like that," he said sternly.

"I'm going back to the car. That's where you wanted me, right?" Georgie yanked her arm away from him but he moved around her to block her way so she couldn't leave.

"Listen, I'm sorry for barking at you like that," he apologized, his gaze softening. "But you could've gotten yourself killed and it got me scared, and when I get scared I get angry. And when I get angry, sometimes I don't think before I speak, and the things I say sound a lot meaner than I intend." Rick leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to see you get hurt anymore, or worse."

Exhaling a deep breath, Georgie met Rick halfway by pressing her forward to his. "We can't be the perfect couple all the time," she quipped. "Arguments and disagreements are bound to happen."

Rick smirked. "As long as you're okay with apologizing when you know you're wrong, I think we'll be okay."

Gaping at him, Georgie gave him a playful shove and then gestured toward the cliff. "I will push you over edge and let those thousands of walkers rip you apart."

"You already push me over the edge," Rick retorted with narrowed, smiling eyes.

As the trio made their way back into the woods, Rick stopped when he saw where they'd left Jake's body. He was tempted to keep going and just head back to the car, even though Morgan had been more insistent on digging the damn grave. He sensed Georgie had stopped a few feet behind him and was wondering what his next move would be.

Scratching at the left side of his face with his right hand, Rick gave in to his conscience and stalked forward. Picking up one of the two shovels, he began to unearth the soil and toss it aside. Morgan smirked and set down his satchel; picking the second shovel up and joining Rick.

"Georgie," Rick called out, when he felt her presence retreating.

"Yeah?" she stopped in her tracks; her soft, ginger locks flopping around her shoulders.

"You should stay," he insisted, casting a glance at her over.

"I don't need to stay. For all I care, toss him over the edge into that quarry."

"We're not burying the man he became," Rick remarked. "We're burying the man he was. You should stay. You need the closure."

As they locked eyes, Georgie slowly nodded. "Okay."

Moving over toward a thicker tree trunk, she leaned against it and slid down to a crouching position. Rick looked away from her and over toward Morgan who gave him a small smile and nod as they continued to dig Jake's grave together.


	25. Make God Laugh

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welp, it would appear I tend to get carried away when right love scenes, so I had to shorten this story where I did. But, because of it, you get an extra chapter after this before next week's episode! Enjoy! _PLEASE READ &amp; REVIEW!_ xoxo - Holly**

* * *

_"If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." _— Woody Allen

* * *

Upwards of forty people were packed into Deanna's home, standing around; a few seated. None of them were there to casually socialize. It wasn't even a funeral breakfast type of event to remember Reg, who had been such an important figure in the community. No, everyone had been called there for one reason and one reason only.

To discuss the threat those thousands of walkers in the quarry posed to Alexandria.

When Rick, Georgie and Morgan had finished seeing to Jake's burial, they more or less hightailed it back to the walled community in under ten minutes. They returned first to the main house where most of Rick's group had congregated to have lunch together and Rick alerted them to the situation then. Maggie came with Rick and Georgie to speak with Deanna about it while Morgan remained at the house where Rick felt he could trust Daryl, Michonne and the others to keep an eye on him. Rick still wasn't sure what to make of Morgan just yet, probably because the other man's ways of going about things seemed so much different than his own these days.

Once they had sat down with Deanna to discuss the issue, they convinced her that a meeting with everyone in the community needed to happen to discuss what would be done. Spencer had been present for the meeting and went to knock on doors and let them know to come to his mother's home in an hour for said meeting.

During that time frame of waiting, Rick sat with Georgie in the living room while Deanna retreated into the kitchen to nurse a cup of tea in silence. She was still too distracted from the grief of losing her son and husband mere days apart. Her world had begun crashing down around her. Maggie offered some words of encouragement, sharing her story of how she lost her father and sister so soon after each other and how she lost them, but Deanna couldn't comprehend anything beyond her own grief. Anyone else's didn't really matter too much to her at the moment.

Rick and Georgie began talking about options in regard to the quarry with Maggie so that when the meeting began they knew what was going to be said and, if anyone asked any specifics on the plan of attack, they could provide some answers.

When the sixty minute wait was up, people began to trickle into the Monroe home. Glenn, Abraham, Sasha and Daryl had arrived first, claiming seats; Daryl taking the window seat to keep an eye out for whatever. The last to arrive was Carol because she had been seeing to putting Judith down for a nap while she left Carl in charge of keeping an eye on both his sister and Tristan alike.

Once everyone was settled in, Rick began to inform them what the meeting would be about, and about what he, Georgie and Morgan had seen in the quarry.

Heath, a dreadlocked resident of Alexandria who had only just returned that morning with several others, and who had been away for the last couple of weeks and therefore not formally met Rick's group yet, stood at the edge of the brown leather couch, near where Glenn sat.

"My team, we saw it early on, back when we were on one of those first scouts, finding out what was around here," Heath began to explain. Everyone just stood or sat in silence, listening to him speak. "There was a camp at the bottom. The people, they must have blocked the exits with one of those trucks back when everything started to go bad. They didn't make it. They were all roamers. Maybe a dozen of them."

"No one's been back since?" Maggie questioned, looking up at him from the couch.

Heath looked back at her and shook his head. "DC and every town worth scavenging are all in the other direction. And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

"So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound and they're making more sound and they're drawing more in," Michonne deduced with her arms folded under her chest.

"And here we are," Rick muttered, glancing around the room. "Now what I'm proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us." He paused, glancing to his left, at Georgie. And on the other side of Georgie was Deanna, standing at a window, staring out. "This isn't about _if_ it gives, it's _when_. It's gonna happen. That's why we have to do this soon."

"This is—I don't even have another word for it. This is terrifying. All of it," Carol spoke up, throwing on her meek little housewife façade that Georgie had found utterly amusing since they set foot in Alexandria. She looked over at Rick and at Georgie, and they read her like a book because their entire group had been in on her charade since day one. "But it doesn't sound like there's any other way."

"Maybe there _is_."

Beside Carol, an Alexandrian in his late thirties with a receding hairline by the name of Carter offered his own two cents. There was something about him defiant about him. The way he looked at Rick suggested there definitely was no trust there for him. He also seemed a bit nervous about everyting being talked about, which was understandable coming from someone who'd lived inside the walls since the beginning and never truly had to survive.

"I mean, couldn't we just build up the weak spots?" Carter continued, offering up an alternative suggestion to the plan Rick was proposing. "I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg. Construction crew—we can try and make it safe."

"Even if we could, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more every day," Rick cut him off. "Building up the exits won't change that."

"We're gonna do what Rick says, the plan he's laid out," Deanna stated, still not turning away from the window."

"I told you all, we're gonna have Daryl leading them away."

"Me, too," Sasha offered. "I'll take a car, ride next to him. Can't just be him. I'll keep 'em coming, Daryl keeps 'em from getting sloppy."

Abraham spoke up next. "I'll go with her. It's a long way to white-knuckle it solo."

Rick locked eyes with the burly redhead and nodded, before looking around at everyone else again. "We'll have two teams. One on each side of the forest helping manage this thing. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. So they're out. So who's in?"

"Me," Michonne announced.

"You know I'm in, too," Georgie assured, placing her hand on the small of Rick's back.

As everyone began looking around at each other, to see who would volunteer next, Rick turned briefly to his fiery-haired lover and lowered his voice for her ears only. "You're with me. I want you at my side."

"Where else would I be?" she smirked.

"I'm in," Glenn decided, after talking quietly with Maggie about something.

Gabriel raised his hand slightly. "I'd like to help as well."

"No." Rick shot him down without batting an eye. "Who else? We need more."

Carter shifted around nervously. "There's got to be another play. W-we can't just control that many."

Rick cut him off again, but maintained eye contact. "I said it before, walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them. That's how we can get 'em all at once."

"S-so, what? We're supposed to just take your _word_ for it? We're all supposed to just _fall_ in line behind you after—"

"After _what_?"

"After you wave a gun around; screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face. After you—"

"Enough!" Deanna shouted, turning around and glaring at Carter.

Rick looked somewhat shyly away, realizing a lot of the Alexandrians might have the same reservations about this plan because of his actions a few days prior. Georgie sensed as much when his shoulders slouched. She moved her hand which was still on his lower back and dragged it up to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He looked back at her with thankful eyes; glad to have her support no matter what.

"I'll do it," Heath offered.

Francine, the brunette who worked with Abraham on the construction crew, raised her hand. "Me, too."

"Whatever you need, I'm in," Tobin, who stood on Rick right, insisted without hesitation.

Georgie leaned forward to glance at the slightly older man and nodded to herself. Until now she hadn't known what to make of him, but his stalwart resolve to go along with Rick's plan made her respect him more. He had the ability to see sense, which was more than she could say for Carter, who seemed unwilling to see that Rick's plan was the only way to go.

"Now who else?" Deanna questioned.

What looked to be some hesitation and a silent back-and-forth with Glenn, Nicholas raised his hand. "I'll go," he offered. "We need to do this. I need to help."

Settling her eyes on her Korean-American friend, Georgie could see how unhappy Glenn was at this. She knew the twosome had butted heads a few times in the last week but she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. She supposed she could ask Maggie about it later. No doubt Glenn would've told her about whatever issue he had with Nicholas, and Georgie wasn't just anyone. She wasn't someone she would keep secrets from, no different than she wouldn't keep them from Michonne or Carol.

Glenn turned his attention to Rick, who Georgie determined might already know what the issue at hand was. Rick, in turn, looked over at Nicholas.

"You think you can handle it?" he asked.

"We need people."

Rick accepted Nicholas' answer with a nod and looked out at everyone again. "We'll make this work. We'll keep this place safe. Keep our _families_ safe. We will."

Others nodded in agreement with him, but Carter seemed unconvinced still.

"The plan," he spoke. "Go through it again."

"Man, he just said it," Daryl bit out in his usual soft, but gruff, voice; clearly just as frustrated by Carter as Rick, Georgie and a few others seemed to be.

"Every part, again," Carter demanded. "The exact plan."

Georgie pulled her hand away from Rick's shoulder and shoved both her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She took half a step forward and eyed Carter. "You heard the plan, verbatim, same as everyone else. If you need help understanding it, or some sort of visual aids, we'd be more than happy to explain it again." She looked briefly to Rick, and then shared a look with Carol. "I mean, if anyone needs to hear it again, then by all means. But anyone else, who is okay, can head home for the evening. Sit down and have dinner with your families and relax. The next few days are going to get hectic, so make the most of your down time now."

Rick tilted his head to the left and smirked. "What she said."

Everyone gathered began looking around at each other before starting to thin out. They bid each other adieu for the night and slipped out of the townhouse, heading home, but there were a few stragglers; Carter, included.

"Do you have a map we can look at?" Carter asked, stepping closer to Rick and Georgie.

Rick exhaled a breath and looked over at Deanna.

"I have plenty of maps. Let's take this out onto the porch," she commented. "It's getting stuffy in here."

Those that remained slipped out through the double doors in the dining room to wait outside for Deanna. In the meantime, Rick dragged a table over and the others began to circle around it; Rick, Georgie, Michonne, Heath, Carter, Morgan and even Eugene. After a few minutes, Deanna was among that group, setting a road map of the area down upon the table. Rick spread it out across the surface and pointed to an intersection.

"Marshall and Redding," Rick announced. "We force them west here."

"How?" Deanna inquired.

"We block it off so they can only go one way: west, away from the community."

"Block it off with what?" Carter was crouched down at the table, with his arms crossed upon the edge of it. He looked up from the map and eyed Rick.

"Cars," Rick replied. "We'll use the RVs, some of the bigger trucks, park them end to end."

"We'll be drawing them away," Michonne added.

Georgie locked eyes with the other woman and nodded in agreement as she then caught Rick's eye. "They're gonna keep moving," she assured.

"Yeah, but that many? Just bouncing off some sedans?" Carter stood up, still unconvinced. "And then when they start slipping through and the ones that walk away start distracting the rest and you stop drawing them away?"

"Man's got a point," Heath muttered.

"We got plates," Eugene spoke, stepping closer to the others, who turned to look at him. "The big-ass metal ones from the construction site. We can use them to fortify the whip wall. It'd help disperse the force of impact and direct the walkers clean. Like a pool table. Eight ball, corner pocket."

She'd had her issues with Eugene before, but Georgie couldn't deny really was an intelligent man. Plus, she was aware he had risen to the occasion and helped saved Tara's life. That alone had made Georgie see Eugene differently; not just as the annoying, mullet-wearing pain in her ass.

"That's an _army_ out there," Carter barked. "And wh-what happens when this doesn't hold?" He leaned across the table and jabbed his finger at the center of the map. "And they push on through. The curve in this hillside is gonna send them right back east. Right back here. You seriously want to risk that?"

"No. So you need to help us to make it hold," Rick spoke in a quieter, deeper tone; pointing at Carter.

"These walls, you built them," Morgan added his two cents. "So you've already done the impossible."

Deanna looked at the obstinate man. "Carter. Please."

Everyone turned and looked at Carter, who seemed to have no other choice but relent. Everyone else was down for the plan. He was the odd man out.

* * *

"I swear, if he would've contradicted me one more time, I was gonna throw him over Deanna's porch," Rick muttered.

Night had fallen already and he was walking along the road between the wall and the solar panels with Georgie at his side; wearing his brown jacket, which Carol had cleaned up for him like some sort of miracle worker. His right hand was slipped easily into Georgie's left, holding it tight, as he caught a glimpse of movement up in the tower.

"I feel you on that, one hundred percent—"

"Which I am glad of, by the way."

"—but I'm glad you kept your cool and were the bigger man."

"I think I surprised myself," Rick admitted. "I really wanted to at least pistol whip him."

Georgie shrugged and smiled. "Well, there's still time for that."

Letting out a low chuckle, Rick looked down at the pavement and brought the back of her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss upon her smooth skin. When he dropped their still connected hands back down between them looked up at the darkened sky. "We should head back home after we loop around back up the main road along the pond."

"We _do_ have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Georgie agreed.

"We could steal some leftovers from tonight's meal from the fridge and take it up to the bedroom. I didn't really eat much at dinner. My stomach's gurgling a bit; lamenting that decision."

"Eating a casserole in bed could get messy."

"Thought you liked messy?" he gave her a knowing look and a slightly shit-eating grin.

Georgie rolled her eyes. "I like _you_."

"Isn't that pretty much the same thing?"

"Well, you _do_ tend to get very messy, so, yeah, I suppose so."

The both of them chuckled, and Rick stopped walking, causing Georgie to do the same since he still had a gentle, but vice-like, grip on her hand. Looking back at him and wondering _why_ exactly he stopped, she raised a curious eyebrow at him, but all he did was continue to smile as he then pulled her up against his chest and encircled his arms around her waist.

Leaning his face down toward hers, Rick brushed the tip of his nose against the tip of her nose, and then settled his lips down completely upon hers. The scratchiness of his stubble against her chin balanced out the softness of his lips, which made her want to kiss him even harder. The stubble also made her think about the mammoth beard he was sporting just over a week earlier, and she thought about how that beard had tickled when they'd shared their first kiss in the woods back in Greensboro.

Georgie snaked her hands up his chest and then cupped either side of his face, holding his lips against hers as his tongue sought entrance into her mouth; entrance she readily gave him.

"You know just how to calm me down," he whispered into her mouth, bringing a hand up to tap the side of his head with his index finger. "You help me stop overthinking everything."

As they parted from their kiss, Georgie maintained her hands on his face, but kept him at a distance where she could get a good look at him while running her thumbs over his cheeks. "Whatever would you do without me?" she teased. She leaned up and placed a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth before dropping her hands down upon his upper arms.

"Go crazy," he muttered. "Again."

"Again?"

"After Lori died giving birth to Judith, I kind of…I lost touch with a few things. I wasn't the man I should've been for my children, for everyone." Rick sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and just focusing on his breath and his proximity to Georgie. "I don't want to even think of what I'd do if I lost you, too. I don't think I can come back a second time."

"And you won't have to, because I ain't going anywhere," Georgie insisted with a smile. She tipped his head back up and kissed him once more. "I know there's the whole saying about making God laugh by telling him your plans, but sometimes I think we do have some say over our fates."

Rick nodded, casting a glance up the road in the direction of their groups' houses. From where they stood he had a decent enough glimpse of the house she'd been living in with Jake and Tristan, which still sat vacant. She knew she would never want to live there again, and it would go to other people to live in at some point, but, for now, it was empty. "Speaking of plans," he whispered.

Georgie studied his expression and then followed his gaze toward the vacant, blue house. "What's going on in that head of yours, Grimes?"

"I don't want you to have only bad memories whenever you walk by that house. I don't want you to not be able to ever set foot in it again because of what he did to you in it," Rick responded. "It was the person, not the house, so we should do something to make you think of the house in a better light."

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

"We'll never be able to be together anywhere we want in the main house or even in our group's second house; too many people coming and going. But, tonight, we could have that privacy."

Georgie giggled. "Anywhere we want?" she repeated.

"Anywhere," he confirmed.

"Like," she hesitated, sticking a finger through one of his belt looks and pulling him closer against her body, "on the kitchen floor, or maybe right on the kitchen table?"

"On the couch in the living room."

"In the garage."

"In every bedroom," he continued. Then, he amended, "Well, not every bedroom."

She knew he was aware Jake's room would be a no-go. "The kitchen counter," she insisted.

Rick tilted his head and smirked. "The kitchen counter, it is," he agreed with a nod of his head.

Taking her hand back in his, he threw a look over his shoulder, back up at the tower. Up inside, he saw that it was Rosita that was on watch now and they had noticed each other. She gave a small wave of her hand down at the pair, so Rick gave a nod of acknowledgement back at her. He then turned his attention back to Georgie and they body walked at a more rushed pace up the road, along the pond.

When they reached the intersection, they looked both ways; not for traffic, of course, but to make sure no one was out on their porches paying attention to where they were going. Not that it mattered, though. Technically, the blue house could still be considered Georgie's, so she had every right to go inside. Still yet, the two of them decided to go around the back and enter in through the garage instead of the front door. Rick closed the garage up after they were inside and stepped into the back hall with Georgie, closing the door that led into the garage behind them.

The house was dark and silent, and there was a slight chill to the air due to the fact that the front window had yet to be replaced, if it ever would be, so air was easily wafting in from the gaps in the blanket that had been strung up.

Georgie hesitated when they got into the kitchen, dragging her fingers along the edge of the marble countertop and chewing on her bottom lip.

Rick noticed the sudden change in her demeanor and reach out, placing his hands to her shoulders. "You alright?"

She nodded, but looked away from him. "Yeah."

"You're thinking about him, and what he did, aren't you?"

"It's hard not to. Being in here, looking around at everything, I just keep picturing where he was. Like, which seat at the table he would always sit in or which corner of the couch," she replied, gesturing toward the breakfast nook and the living room. "Where I was when he came at me."

Rick's jaw clenched unintentionally. The threat of her ever being hurt by Jake was over forever, but knowing he should've step up to the plate sooner to put an end to it all made him angry still, and sad for her. "He's not here anymore. You don't have to be afraid of him and you don't have to be afraid of this house."

"I'm not afraid of him. I never really was, not truly. I just can't help remembering the things he did."

"Where did he first hurt you?"

Georgie licked her lips and tried to recall that specific moment from nine days ago when she entered the house for the first time and began arguing with Jake over their situation and how he insisted the living arrangements would go for the sake of their son. She pointed near the couch. "Right there," she informed. "He grabbed my hair when he was using Tristan in order to guilt me into staying here."

Rick blinked his anger away and stepped over toward the couch, looking down at his feet for a moment and then up at her. "Right here?"

She shrugged. "Pretty much."

Nodding, Rick beckoned to her with a curl of his index finger. "C'mere." As Georgie obliged him and walked up to him, he smiled at her and reached a hand up to the back of her head. He then snaked his fingers through her locks and gently massaged her scalp as he pulled her in for a brief, but tender kiss. "There," he muttered, pulling away. "Now when you stand in this spot again, you'll only think of me running my hand through your hair and kissing you here."

Georgie grinned. "I think I can do that."

"Where else did he hurt you? The bruising on your neck—he tried choking you. Where?"

She snorted. "Which time?"

Rick tilted his head to the left and suddenly wished he hadn't shot Jake dead so he could go find him and beat him within an inch of his life and then kill him again. "It happened more than once?"

"Well, twice that I know of," she remarked, turning and walking off toward the fridge. "He might've tried choking me while I was unconscious upstairs. I don't know." She came to a stop in front of the fridge and turned around to find Rick had been following her over. "Right about here was the second time he tried it. It was when Tristan walked in on us, and went out to the garage where he knocked the tools off the workbench."

"The same day you and I went upstairs together?"

Georgie nodded, placing a hand on his stomach. "That's at least one good memory I have for this place."

Looking her in the eye, Rick leaned in and brushed his cheek against hers before slowly dragging his lips down along the side of her neck, laying kisses from one side to the other; taking half a moment to suckle on the skin of her throat. When he lifted his head, brushing his face on the opposite side of hers from where he started, he whispered in her ear, "Whenever you find yourself standing at this fridge again, remember me kissing your neck."

She smiled warmly, lifting her hands up to either side of his face and kissing his lips. "Oh, I will."

"Where else did he try to choke you?"

"The stairs."

Taking her by the hand, Rick led her out of the kitchen and to the back hall where he then pointed at the stairwell. "Whereabouts?"

"Halfway up."

He gestured for her to walk to the spot in question. "What did he do exactly?"

"He grabbed my ankle to stop me from running away from him. I fell down on my ass and he hovered over me, and then grabbed my neck," she explained, sitting down in about the same place she had fallen with Jake. She had never wanted Rick to know these things, knowing it would upset him and berate himself for not being able to do anything about it, all because she had been an idiot to keep it from him; thinking she knew how to handle Jake alone. Georgie looked up at Rick and frowned. "Tristan found us like that, but Jake had made up some excuse about me falling and him helping me up. I think Tristan might've believed it, partially because I helped perpetuate that lie as not to upset him."

Rick knelt down on the step two below where she was sitting, right between her legs and leaned forward; bracing his hands on another step that was parallel with her chest. Pressing his groin against her jean-clad crotch, he swiveled his hips slightly and brought his lips to her collarbone and suckled again at her neck.

What he was doing was working.

Georgie was quickly able to forget what Jake had done and all she could think about was what Rick was doing. She raked her fingers up his back and then up into his hair, holding tightly onto his curls as she urged his face up to hers. She wanted his lips on her lips like the desert wanted the rain. Feeling the fire for her starting to burn very hot, he reached his hands between their bodies and grabbed at the bottom of her shirt. Pulling it up her chest, he continued with it until he was completely off and set it beside them on the stairs. Next he slipped her bra strap down and kissed her bare shoulders while reaching his arms behind her back and unclasping the bra before removing it altogether.

Without warning, he took one of her pebbled nipples between his teeth, gently biting down before suctioning his lips around it. With a free hand he toyed with the other one as he swirled his tongue around the rosy bud of the first. Georgie tipped her head back on another step and bit down on her bottom lip as he switched breasts. He palmed them, suckled on them long and hard, which ignited a fire in her belly; wanting him to do more than just nipple play.

"Rick," she moaned, and he took the hint.

Leaning up, he reached for the button on her jeans and popped it open, and then pulled the zipper down. With her assistance of lifting her hips up, Rick was able to drag her pants down her hips. Once he had them pooled at her ankles, he stopped to remove her boots and set them aside before pulling her pants completely off. With a wink, he did the same thing with her panties; simple white panties that he could tell were already damp for him.

Licking his lips, Rick grabbed her legs and draped them over his shoulders as he pressed his mouth down against her soft, slick folds. He dragged he tongue upward, lapping up her juices, before swirling it around her clit for a few strokes. Her entire body seemed to twitch from the sensation, and as a reaction she gripped his hair with both hands, urging him on.

He didn't need any hints, though.

Rick covered his lips around her clit and sucked hard on it at the same moment he brought two fingers up and slid them inside her center, pumping them in and out, and twirling them around. He knew he was hitting the right spots by the way she wrapped her legs around his neck and dug her heels into his back. A lesser man would've buckled under the force, but he was up for the challenge. This place held more negative memories for her and he wanted to give her such a shattering orgasm that it would be the only thing she would take away from the house.

Thrusting his fingers faster and faster, he refused to let up on her clit. The sound of her mewls and whimpers and guttural groans were like the greatest sonata every composed. Then, as her body began to shake and shudder, he slowed down, but didn't stop completely until he knew the final spasms of her orgasm were ebbing away. When her body still, Rick licked her clean and then placed a soft kiss upon her mound. He left a trail of kisses up her body; working up from her mound, to her stomach, to the valley between her breast and up to her throat again before claiming her mouth with his.

Georgie tasted herself upon his lips and it made her want him more; if that was even possible. Pushing him off her so she could sit up, she grinned back at him and then clambered to her feet. Rick watched her as she stood up and turned, giving him a wonderful view of her bare ass. He enjoyed the way it moved as she ascended the remainder of the stairs to the landing and then continued up to the second floor.

Getting up off his knees, Rick stood up as well and began to undo his gun belt as he walked up the stairs a couple of feet behind her. He draped the gun belt over the railing and then worked on removing his regular belt, which he slid out of the belt loops and let drop to the stairs. Rick unzipped his black jeans first and unbuttoned them second as he followed her toward the room that had been Jake's.

He stopped behind her when she stopped in the doorway. A few feet away, off to the side was one of the chairs from the kitchen table. It was lying on its side with a broken leg from when he knew she had slammed her body against the door to break herself free, as the chair had been used to prop up against the door as a barricade of sorts to keep her in. Georgie's hands were bracing the doorframe on either side of her and Rick could sense her hesitation.

Sliding his hands up her bare back, he brought them to rest on her shoulders; using one hand to brush her hair out of the way so he could kiss the side of her neck, just under her jaw and near her earlobe. Georgie leaned into the gesture and closed her eyes.

"C'mon," he muttered against her skin. "We'll use the other bedroom; the one we used that day."

Georgie shook her head, causing her hair to move and tickle his face a little. "No. It has to be in here. This was the worst place and I need you to help me erase the memory of it by giving me a new one." Looking over her shoulder as he leaned back from it, she stared imploringly at him. "Please."

Rick stared her back in the eye and knitted his brow together. "You don't have to ask." Looking into the bedroom, he considered his next move and then held up a hand to her for her to stay put for a moment. "Wait here."

Stalking forward, he came to stop at the foot of the bed and gave it a quick onceover. There was a noticeable dark stain or two on the duvet that he believed to be her blood, which made his own momentarily boil. Hunching forward, he grabbed the cotton material and yanked it down until he had pulled the entire thing off the bed. Shoving it to the floor, he repeated the process with the bedsheet and the fitted sheet underneath that. Rick then made his way around to the side of the bed and threw the pillows off before bending at the knees and grabbing the mattress. Gritting his teeth, he hoisted the mattress up and pulled it closer to him. Making sure he had the room to work with, Rick flipped the mattress over and stood back a bit as he dropped back down upon the box spring.

Turning toward the door, Rick's eyes smiled at the sight of Georgie standing there naked; looking like a goddess to him. Smiling with his lips as well, Rick walked back over to her, placed a small kiss to the corner of her lips and then, without warning, scooped her up into his arms bridal-style.

Georgie let out a small giggle as he carried her across the threshold and into the room where he then laid her gently down upon the mattress. She didn't say anything; she just looked up at him and waited.

"What do you want me to do?" he inquired. "How do you want it done?"

She snickered at him. "So clinical."

Rick smirked and shrugged. "Sorry," he apologized.

"Just…" she trailed for a moment, trying to focus solely on him and nothing else. Georgie sighed. "Just fuck me so good I almost forget my name."

With a nod, Rick pushed his jeans down over his narrow hips and let them pool around his ankles. "I'll do my best," he quipped, stepping out of his pants.

Georgie's eyes focused on his erection and the way it was pushing at the thin material of his boxer shorts and it practically made her mouth water. Even though last night she made it all about him, and this night he was making it all about her, she still felt the need to take him into her mouth.

Later, perhaps.

When he stepped out of his boxers and that swollen shaft stood at attention for her, Georgie backed up slightly on the mattress as he knelt down and crawled up over her body. Then, for a moment, he hesitated as he considered the next move to make. He wanted to make her scream his name; although, not too loud that it alerted their people in the house next door and brought them running. He wanted her to see stars. He wanted her to look back on this night and cum instantly just from remembering it.

"Hands and knees," he said, making a hand gesture for her to turn over.

Without hesitation, Georgie rolled over to her side and, like the night before, got up onto her hands and knees for him. But this time was a little different.

"Grab the headboard," Rick urged.

Georgie did just that. She wrapped her fingers around the top of the headboard and gripped it tight as she used it to brace herself. Rick then scooted up behind her, running his hands down her back and over her hips. Not too hard, he slapped her ass. She bit her lip at the faint sting and instinctively stuck her ass out more toward him, so he did it again. When he next gripped her ass in his hands, he massaged the soft, pillowy flesh and leaned forward to rub himself against her; sliding his thick length along her slit as her juices began to drip upon him.

It was Rick's turn to bit his lip, wanting nothing more but to feel her clenching herself around him. Taking a hold of his dick, he tapped the head against her folds, slickening himself up and teasing her in the process. It was teasing them both really, so he didn't do it much longer so he didn't just cum right there.

"Rick," she groaned, growing impatient.

"Shh."

He slid himself from her throbbing clit, all the way along the crack of her ass, and back again; using her dampness to create a sheen upon them both. He then pried her legs open a bit wider and gripped her hip with one hand before pressing his tip against her moist entrance. Licking his bottom lip, he shoved himself all the way in without warning and then just held himself there. He listened to the way she gasped when he filled her up completely and smiled.

"Hold on tight, baby."

Georgie made sure her grip on the headboard was secure as he did the same with her hips. After a moment of adjusting to his length, she exhaled and was pleasantly treated to him sliding out halfway only to thrust back in all the way. His pace was slow at first, but each thrust was so delicious deep she thought his dick might go all the way up to her throat.

Even though he began to go faster, the depth in which he penetrated her warm center never faltered. He slapped her as a few more times, making her squeal slightly. He rolled his hips each time he drove himself into her and she rocked her hips backward onto him; the two of them finding their perfect rhythm. Reaching a hand around her waist, he let his index and middle fingers clamp down around her clit and rolled it around, which got Georgie inhaling and exhaling plenty of ragged breaths.

Just as he began to feel himself start to lose control and near his own orgasm, he pulled out, much to her displeasure. But it was done to prevent him from coming first. He stilled himself for a moment and then patted her bottom.

"Sit down," he commanded in a soft, but gruff voice.

Rick watched her drop her hips down and let go of the headboard. When she sat down upon the mattress, she turned around and looked up at him with anxious eyes. Rick responded by spreading her legs and wrapping them around his waist as he positioned himself at her entrance again. Reaching her hands up, Georgie gripped onto his shoulders this time and he was the one that gripped the headboard as slid back inside of her like a glove.

He delved deeper into her with each rhythmic push. Georgie arched her back, rising up to meet him as he drove down. The only sounds in the room were their respective puffs of breath, grunts, moans and the slapping of skin on skin.

As Georgie neared the apex of her orgasm, she cried out loudly; wrapping her legs tight around his waist and digging her nails into the skin of his back. Rick let go of the headboard and encircled his arms around her back, holding their bodies flush against each other. Placing his mouth down upon hers, he swallowed her forthcoming cries as they frantically kissed each other. Pounding into her in a fierce paroxysm, Rick was finding it too difficult to hold back his orgasm any longer.

"Cum for me, Georgie," he practically begged, removing his lips from hers and burying his face into her neck.

Focusing on how good he felt and the white heat building up inside of her at the base of her spine, Georgie closed her eyes and let herself become enveloped in the moment. With great shuddering, clenching spasms, her orgasm hit like a Mack truck into a brick wall; hard, fast and it left her shaken and dizzy.

Praising every deity ever worshipped, Rick finally let go. His body went rigged for a moment and his dick spasmed as he spilled himself inside of her.

A part of him felt sad that she'd been forced to receive a hysterectomy years ago after the problems she'd suffered upon delivering her daughter. He was sure this would've been the night that would've conceived a child; of that he was one hundred percent certain, and the idea of having a child with her that they created together would've been amazing.

Sadly that was never to be, but having her like this, in his arms, and buried deep inside of her was what heaven must feel like, and that was more than enough to make him smile.

Collapsing his entire weight down upon her body, Rick enjoyed the way she still clung to him; as if letting go meant she would lose him forever.

"So," he muttered into her neck, suckling briefly upon her skin, "have you forgotten the old memory?"

Georgie grinned lazily. "_What_ old memory?" she teased, turning her face and biting down on his earlobe.

Rick lifted his face up and stared down at her with his own smile as his curls stuck to the sides of his face from sweat. "God-fucking-damn, I love you."

Dragging her hand up his back and into his hairs, she massaged his scalp and guided his lips to hers for a kiss. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and rolled it around with his. "I…" she began to reply, but then moaned when he accidentally rolled his hips against hers. "Uh…I love you, too. Sweet Lordy Jesus, I love you."

Smiling again, Rick pulled his mouth away from hers and then rested his face down into her shoulder again as he mumbled against her neck. "We should get back home soon."

"We will," she assured. "But first, we need to go again."

"Again?" he chuckled. "What do you think I am? A horny teenager? You gotta give me a minute, woman. Christ."

Georgie giggled and hugged him tight in her arms. "When you're ready, then."

Snickering, Rick let out a sigh and just laid there for a few moments. He really could've just drifted off to sleep right then and there, but Georgie was rolling her hips purposely against him in such a way that it began to stir the lower half of him back away. Lifting his head back up, Rick looked down between their bodies. She looked down too and suddenly felt him twitching inside her.

"Well, well, well," she teased. "Didn't take long after all."

"Guess I'm not as old as I think I am."

Georgie let out a hearty laugh and welcomed his embrace when he rolled her over so that she was on top.

"If only we had one of those bells from wrestling matches to indicate round two," she joked as he began to run his hands up her thighs while staring up at her.

"Ding," he muttered, and thrust upward.

* * *

The following afternoon, nearly every person that had been at Deanna's for the meeting were at the intersection of Marshall and Redding roads with trucks full of construction equipment for the temporary metal plate walls being put up to help divert the walkers when they were ready for them. The RV and other vehicles were already in position and posts were being dug into the ground on either side of the road for the sections of wall that extended off the road.

Digging one such hole in the ground for a post was Rick wearing his old, grey shirt which was good enough for him when it came to getting dirty. The sun was beating down on his arms and the back of his neck, causing sweat to drip from pretty much everywhere. It was barely past noon and he was already achy and tired, although some of that could easily be attributed to the night before and his co-conspirator in that was crouched down several feet away, digging her own hole for another post.

Glancing up, Rick squinted in the sunlight and looked over at Georgie. She seemed to sense his eyes on her and looked up in his direction. When they made eye contact, the two of them immediately smiled knowingly at each other. He watched the way she bit her bottom lip, her mind no doubt recalling their shenanigans in the blue house that had kept them away from the main house until after two in the morning.

When he forced himself to tear his eyes away from her, Rick discovered Daryl walking over toward him; his crossbow strapped across his back and pushing a wheelbarrow.

"Hey, what you said before about us needing to take care of ourselves? Going out finding more people: that _is_ taking care of ourselves." Daryl dumped the soil in the wheelbarrow out beside Rick. "Your call, though."

As he turned and walked away, Rick watched after him with a slight frown, just as Carol sauntered up to him, still not dropping the quintessential housewife act, and holding a cup of water in each hand.

"Here," she offered one of the cups to Rick.

"Thanks," he replied, taking the cup.

"You know, I could come with all of you. You and Daryl have been teaching me how to shoot," she quipped.

Rick brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. "I think you got the hang of it," he retorted, flashing a smile up at her. "You should stay back; get a feel for how people feel now. We still got a long way to go with them."

"We'll get there," Carol assured with a slight nod. "She's in charge," she added, referring to Deanna, "but you're in charge now."

Rick chewed on that as Carol walked off; the burden that was placed upon his shoulders as usual. It wasn't that he had that position of authority thrust on him or that he necessarily wanted it. He was just good at leading, and no one else seemed to be able to rise to the occasion as he could. Even when he took himself out of that position, people would default to him for direction.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to pass the torch to someone else.

He wondered if he _wanted_ to.

* * *

Bright and early the following day, construction recommenced on the wall.

Georgie had hung back in Alexandria for most of the morning because Tristan had had a nightmare the night before and had a hard time going back to sleep. It had therefore kept her up as well, which meant she didn't get much sleep and would've been of no use to anyone first thing in the morning.

Just before noon, though, Georgie was up, showered and fed and made her way back toward the Marshall and Redding intersection with Tara, who had also taken a bit longer to get moving for the day. Parking along the side of the road on their side of the blossoming wall, Georgie hopped out of the driver's seat of the old sedan she driven there from their community and walked up to Rick. He'd been watching as the car approached and waited for her to join him at his side.

"Afternoon, Constable Grimes," she greeted with a smile.

Rick cocked his head and made a face. "I don't know that that's really what I am anymore."

"So, just Officer Handsome, then?" she teased.

"I can live with that," he nodded, leaning in to complete their greeting with a tender kiss. "You didn't need to come back today. We got enough people to manage. You should've stayed with the kids, rested."

"I've done more with less sleep, and the kids are fine with Carol and Rosita," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Although, Judith _did_ start crying when I left and, I know it sounds sadistic or whatever, but I enjoyed it. Not that she was upset and crying, mind you; that she was upset and crying _because_ I was leaving. I haven't experienced that in years. Not since my Avery."

"It's 'cause she loves you," Rick deduced. "She gets that from me."

Georgie squinted up at him and chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He was going to say more, but then he noticed Deanna walking over. As he moved to walk up to the older woman, Georgie came with him as the three of them looked upon those putting up the metal plates against the posts that had been mounted into the ground the evening before. "I haven't had a chance to say it yet, but I'm sorry about Reg," he addressed Deanna. "He was smart and kind. He was a good man."

Georgie nodded in agreement. She had said as much to Deanna a couple of days before. At the moment, she could tell the figurehead of Alexandria was trying to take everything in; to wrap her head around the immensity of how many walkers would pass through and if it would work. "It was the right call," Georgie commented, gesturing to the metal plates. "We need this."

Deanna looked at Georgie and then up at Rick. "What else? You need to tell me."

Rick sighed slightly. He knew what needed to be done, but he wasn't sure Deanna would go along with it. He gave Georgie a side glance and she seemed to understand what he wanted to say. It was something he had mentioned to their group since they first arrived. Looking back at Deanna, he said, "People need to be armed inside the walls. They need to be trained, _everyone_."

Twigs and branches snapping from inside the woods in front of them focused their attention while the banging on the plates to install them continued. Through the trees there was movement and it really could only be one thing. Deanna stepped away to see what it was, but Rick grabbed onto her arm and held her back.

"Stop," he insisted. "Here they come."

Instinctively, Georgie unsheathed her hunting knife from the left side of the gun belt she wore and just held it, pointing downward.

"Carter, heads up," Rick called out.

Carrying a narrow tree trunk with another Alexandrian, Carter looked up at Rick and then behind him at the walkers ambling out of the woods toward him. Rick's group came around with their own weapons at the ready; pick axes, shovels, Michonne's katana, and Daryl's crossbow. Rick held his hand out to keep them from doing anything just yet.

"Use your shovels. The guns will draw more," Rick advised.

Carter nervously lowered his rifle and stared wide-eyed back at Rick. "Help us."

"You can do this. You need to, all of you."

The man who'd been assisting Carter with the post kicked at one walker, which kept coming back at him, undeterred. Carter removed a knife from his pants and tried to get up the gumption to make a move. Another Alexandrian aimed a gun, looking anxiously over at Rick and his group. Basically they were fumbling, inexperienced idiots.

At least that's how Georgie was viewing them.

"Just stab them in their heads, Jesus fucking Christ," she mumbled.

Her comment wasn't lost on Rick and, if it no one else was around, he might've found himself laughing at it. But this situation didn't allow him the time to acknowledge the amusement he took from what she'd said.

More walkers stumbled forward from out of the woods, more than Carter and the people around him could realistically handle. Even Georgie had to admit that, but Carter and the others weren't even doing anything. They were barely making a move to defend themselves.

Morgan darted forward with his stick Michonne was close behind him.

"Morgan, don't!" Rick shouted.

Rick's group fell in after that, running down the slight incline off the road to take out the walkers Carter and the others were inept at. Rick, Morgan, Michonne, Georgie, Rosita, Abraham, Daryl, Glenn and Maggie took out each and every last walker present in no time at all with such fluid precision one might thing they had choreographed beforehand. All the while, Carter and the others hadn't moved an inch and looked around like children who had watched too many scary movies and were now too afraid to check the closet for the boogeyman.

When the walkers were dispatched, Rick shot a look at Morgan.

"You said you don't take chances anymore," Morgan bit out, looking a rather upset.

Rick's nostrils flared, clenching his jaw. He drew his attention away from Morgan and over toward Carter, who was still looking back at him with wide eyes. Gripping his own knife firmly in his hands, Rick stalked away from the tree he was standing beside and gestured toward the wall with his free hand.

"Let's finish up here," he barked; his nerve endings frayed slightly as he walked back up toward the road.

Shoving his knife back into its sheath, he placed his hands on his hips and scuffed at the pavement with the ball of his boot. He looked in the opposite direction from the wall, away from any faces that might be staring back at him as he chewed on his bottom lip.

"Don't do that," Georgie muttered, sidling up beside her.

Rick exhaled a breath through his nostrils, casting his eyes over at her. Just looking at her helped calm him a bit. He knew she understood him and she tended to see things from his perspective more often than not, as if they shared a brain. "Do what?"

"Chew your lip," she replied. She lifted a hand to his face and brushed her thumb over his bottom lip. "That's my job." With a small, knowing smile, she dropped her hand to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before placing it back on her hip. "They'll come around eventually. Or, at least, most of them will."

"Carter won't," he remarked in a low voice for only her ears. "He's not the type to survive outside the walls. He's gonna get himself killed sooner or later."

Georgie shrugged. "Probably," she nodded. "But right now, he's alive and, as annoying as he is, I suppose we should give him the benefit of the doubt until the day he bites the dust."

Rick studied her face and then nodded as well. "We'll see."


	26. Best Laid Plans

"_The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry."_— John Steinbeck

* * *

Construction on the wall was completed around early afternoon the next day. Georgie had stayed back in Alexandria, helping Carol around the main house; simply cleaning up the breakfast dishes, doing a few loads of laundry, changing bed sheets and looking after the children. When Tristan was returning home from morning class at the schoolroom, Carl had gone off to the afternoon class. Shortly after that, Georgie had decided to take Judith for a walk in her stroller and when Tristan claimed he didn't want to go, Carol said she'd stay with him. Both women could tell there was something bothering Georgie's son and he wouldn't talk to her about it. It had been going on for a few days, ever since Jake had died, so she suspected it more than likely had something to do with that.

Regardless of the man Jake had become and the things he had done while on the road, he had never laid a hand on Tristan, and was a good man to him. That had been his only saving grace in the end. He had been a decent father and Tristan was probably just in mourning over his loss.

As she walked along the road with Judith, she smiled politely and waved at a few of the Stepford Housewives on their porches talking to each other. They smiled back at her, out of politeness, but Georgie could see them turning and whispering to each other the moment she passed their houses. She could see them out of her peripheral vision and sensed they were talking about her. It wasn't that she was paranoid. She had been at the center of the drama that had taken place recently. After all, she had arrived with a rag tag group of survivors and moved right in with her legitimate husband and their son, only for her husband and her lover to violently throwdown in the street and for the lover, who happened to be the constable, to wave a gun at people while covered in blood. She had then publically divorced her husband and spit on him, and moved her and her son into the main house. She was Rick's biggest champion and gave terrible stink eye to anyone who contradicted him. She supposed that made her hard to befriend. She had played the part while living under the same roof with Jake, but after the fight with Rick, Georgie had stopped pretending to be the demure housewife.

That was a part Carol had more patience to keep up with.

When she turned the corner by the solar panels, she saw a tall woman with short blonde hair unlatching the gate. She had only conversed with her once, but Georgie had known her name to be Holly, and she was pretty sure she had remembered that Noah had been stealing glances at her the night of Deanna's welcoming party.

Georgie frowned then, remembering Noah and hearing about how he died, and it made her sad for a moment. He had been such a lovely young man who had already lost his entire family and then suddenly seemed so happy when they arrived to Alexandria. He had found someplace where he could make a life for himself and it was cruel that he had had that taken right out from underneath him because Nicholas had acted like a little bitch.

As the gate slid open, a few vehicles drove inside and Georgie noticed Rick in the passenger seat of one of a truck. She had waved at him, but he had been looking forward and not seen her and Judith. She knew the truck would be circling around to pull into one of the garages underneath the townhouses, so she took the shortcut, walking up the narrow road that went past the garage which was used as the school as well as Gabriel's church. She peered in briefly and saw Carl joking around with Enid, and Nicholas' son Mikey. The woman who was their teacher was biting her lip, trying to get their attention, to no avail. The teens seemed to have only bothered going to class to socialize and, as far as Georgie was concerned, that was perfectly fine.

This wasn't the world before and there wasn't much more for the teens to learn. The simple fact that they could just relax with others their own age and live somewhat normal lives in a normal community was all anyone could ask for. It's what all the kids deserved.

It's definitely what Carl deserved.

Continuing up the narrow road between school/church and the townhouses, Georgie slowed down when she saw Rick hopping out of the truck. As he slammed the door shut, he called out to Tobin about something or other and laughed. When he turned around, he came face to face with Georgie and smile warmly at her.

"Hey," he called out, walking up to her. When he was near enough, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed his lips against hers in greeting. "How's your day gone?"

"It was pleasantly uneventful," she replied, wishing his lips would've lingered a bit longer.

"Is that just another way of saying 'boring'?" Rick teased, leaning down and pulling Judith out of the stroller.

"No. I wouldn't have said 'pleasant' before 'uneventful.'" She watched him situate his daughter on his hip and kiss her cheek. Judith began jabbering away, clutching at his shirt with her tiny, chubby fingers as she squinted from the sunlight. "I think Tristan's still upset about Jake. I think that's what's been giving him the nightmares. He barely talks to me. Thankfully he seems to feel comfortable around Carol. She stayed back with him at the house instead of taking her shift at the pantry. Maybe she can get him to talk about what's eating at him."

Rick nodded solemnly. "We've all been so busy the last few days with the wall that I've barely had a chance to even talk to Carl long enough, let alone Tristan," he remarked. "I hope he's not too upset with me about what I had to do."

"I think he understands what had to be done with his father, but Jake had always been kind to him, even if he wasn't to me in the end, and even though Tristan was aware of what his father had done in Greensboro." Georgie shrugged. "A boy losing his father; that's some hard shit to deal with, I guess. But we have so many men in both houses that he can look up to now; good men. Yourself included, right up there at the top of that list, of course."

Rick smirked and snaked his free arm around her waist. "Well, I _do_ try," he muttered, placing a kiss to her temple.

"Is the wall finished?"

"It is," he confirmed with a nod. "Tomorrow's the dry run, so it's a good thing we got done early. We can all relax for the rest of the evening. Eat a good meal and go to bed early so we're ready to go in the morning."

"When are we doing the actual herd removal?"

"Day after tomorrow, preferably," he replied. "I don't want to wait too much longer. The risk is too great."

She watched the way he seemed slightly agitated by something. She wondered if it had something to do with the dry run the following day or something else. "What's up, buttercup?"

Rick snickered at her and cast a side glance at her. "Morgan."

"What about him?"

"Just what he said to me yesterday when we took out those walkers because Carter just stood there like a deer in the headlights; throwing what I said to him a few nights ago back in my face."

"About not taking chances anymore?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah. I can tell in his eyes, he thought I was being negligent."

"You weren't, though. There was nothing wrong with having Carter and the others get their hands dirty. They need to learn to take care of themselves out there sooner or later, plain and simple. What happens if they get stranded outside these walls? How will they defend themselves then when there's no us to save their asses?"

"_I _know that. I just don't think _Morgan_ gets it. He's got this whole Buddhist air to him; this inner peace I am admittedly jealous of. But the way he is, it's not entirely practical. Inside these walls, maybe, but not outside." Rick sighed. "You know one of the first things he said to Daryl and Aaron was that all life is precious?"

Georgie knitted her brow together and frowned. "Clearly he's never had to interact with the kinds of people we've crossed paths with on the road. Those people's lives were anything _but_ precious."

"Tell me about it. There were even two men that attacked him before he got here and he just smacked them around with that stick of his and sent them running." Rick seemed dumbfounded as he shook his head. "Like, I-I don't even understand how that happens."

Georgie let out a small chuckle. "Why don't we just head home and you can take a hot shower, clear your head. I'll set out some clean clothes for you because you've been wearing that damned T-shirt for two days in a row now and it smells like it."

"Hey, I've smelled like worse."

"I know," she agreed. "And so have I, but we don't have to anymore, so why not take advantage of having washers and dryers to use?" Biting her bottom lip, she grinned up at him and reached around to give his ass a pinch. When he clenched briefly at the gesture, it brought another chuckle out of her. "I'll warm you up some leftover lasagna from last night's dinner and have it waiting for when you're done cleaning up."

Rick smiled lovingly down at her. "Battling Carol for Housewife of the Year?" he teased, turning slightly and leaning in to kiss her once more on the lips, which meant she couldn't respond right away.

The closeness of their bodies meant Judith was sandwiched gently between them, but the little girl didn't seem to mind. She looked up between them, watching them kissing and smiled a sweet smile as she rested her head upon Rick's chest, strumming at her bottom lip.

"Da-da," Judith babbled. She craned her head backward suddenly to get a better look at him.

Rick snapped his attention immediately to his daughter and his heart swelled. Judith rarely spoke. It was usually just mumbled gibberish or crying. To actual hear her address him specifically made all the bad things disappear from his life for a little bit.

"What's up, baby girl?"

"Da-da, da-da." She turned her head and glanced over at Georgie and then brought her hand to her mouth and made a suction noise. "Ma-ma."

Georgie just stood there. "Well, that was unexpected."

"You're telling me," Rick muttered. "I've never heard her say that yet."

The two of them looked at each other and Georgie suddenly felt a bit awkward. "Let's head home."

Rick nodded, lowering Judith back down into her stroller and strapping her in so she didn't tumble out. "Lead the way, mama," he quipped.

Georgie turned away from him, pushing the stroller forward; just thankful he couldn't see the blush that found its way to her face.

* * *

After Rick's shower, sure as shit, there was a crisp, new shirt waiting for him laid out on the bed that Georgie had laid out for him while he was in the bathroom. There was even a note that said the shirt had been hanging in the back of the closet and that he was to not wear it to the quarry in the morning because it was too nice to get dirty.

Rick had thrown his trusty, black jeans back on, along with a white T-shirt and the dress shirt, with the tiny blue and white checkered pattern, Georgie had lain out. He sat down on the edge of the bed to put on some clean socks and then his boots which could use a good resoling. That was unlikely, however. It was highly doubtful anyone in Alexandria knew anything about shoe repair.

Bringing his towel up to his head, he tried soaking up as much of the water still clinging to his hair and then returned the towel into the bathroom to air dry on a towel rack; just as he was going to air dry his hair. He did take a brush to it, though, so when his hair _did_ dry, his naturally curly hair would look wavier and not completely crazy.

When he joined the others in the kitchen, he found that everyone was gathered primarily in the living and dining rooms, seated on the couch, the big chair or around the table. Only Georgie and Carol stood around the island.

Looking at Georgie and smiled. "I like the shirt," he muttered.

"I like it, too. It brings out your eyes."

Carol, nursing a cup of tea, smirked. "He cleans up rather well, doesn't he?" she asked, rhetorically, as if he weren't even there. "Looks so handsome all dressed up in nice clothes."

Georgie leaned into Carol and muttered in a quiet voice, but loud enough for Rick to hear, "You should see him with _no_ clothes on."

Carol let out a hearty chuckle and nodded. "Oh, I can imagine."

Rick looked like he'd just seen a ghost and looked away, shaking his head, so both women couldn't see the embarrassment on his face. He looked over at the group congregated in the other part of the living space, noting that not everyone was present. Abraham, Rosita, Tara, Eugene, Glenn and Maggie were missing. He figured the first four were likely next door, and Glenn and Maggie were probably at Deanna's, what with Maggie having become Deanna's right hand woman.

At the table, Daryl and Morgan sat across from each other, eating what looked to be bowls of soup. On the couch, Michonne sat at one end, Carl on the other and Tristan in the middle while Sasha occupied the big, comfy chair. All four of them had their eyes trained on the TV, watching a movie; _Elf_, to be exact. Hearing laughter come from them was such a welcomed sound, along with the sound of a movie actually playing on a television screen.

Actually, just having electricity was amazing.

The amount of shit they had taken for granted in the old world was astonishing.

"Where's Judith?" Rick asked.

"Napping." Carol turned the baby monitor around to face Rick when he looked over at both women again.

On the screen, he could see his daughter fast sleep, sprawled out the way he remembered Lori sleeping when he would come home from work in the middle of the night and she had had the entire bed to herself. Those instances he would just let her sleep and go watch some TV in the living room and usually just fall asleep on the couch, only to get woken up mere hours later by the sounds of Lori getting Carl ready for school. Then he would get up to his feet, kiss them both good morning and then stumble into his and Lori's bedroom and collapse back to sleep for a little while longer before Lori woke him up to mow the lawn or some other husbandly chore before he had to go back to work for his next shift.

It was strange to think of those things now.

It felt like someone else's life, not his.

Looking up from the baby monitor, he focused his attention on Georgie and smiled. She was the woman in his life now. He had his son and his daughter, and now he had Georgie's son as part of his family. He had a bigger family now than he did in the old world, and that was the only benefit of the new world.

"Want that lasagna?" Georgie asked, snapping Rick out of his daydream.

"What—oh yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."

He took a seat down on a stool at the kitchen island and watched as Carol stepped back so Georgie could open the oven door. She pulled out a ceramic plate using a dishcloth and set it in front of Rick. On the plate was a medium-sized square of lasagna leftover from the night before.

"Can I have a fork, please?" he asked politely.

Georgie pulled a drawer open after closing the oven door and removed a fork. Walking around the island, she stepped right up beside Rick and before she allowed him to take the fork from her, she leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He was slow to react to the kiss, turning his head into it just as she was already pulling away. She did leave him with the fork, however, and a slight ruffling of his hair as she walked over into the living room to join the others in watching the movie.

Taking the fork and jabbing the lasagna with it, Rick smiled. When he sensed Carol's eyes on him, he shot a look at her and found she was smiling happily back at him.

"Penny for your thoughts, Carol?"

"Things are gonna work out here," she spoke quietly and adamantly. "We're gonna make it work. We're gonna make it safe and the people here will get stronger. We can have some semblance of our lives back."

"I hope so," he commented, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth.

* * *

An hour later, Rick and Georgie left the house with Daryl and Morgan in tow to head to the armory together. As they stepped up the porch, they heard some voices muffled from inside that sounded a bit tense. Rick reached for the door handle first and threw the door open only to find Carter standing there pointing a gun in the face of a very scared Eugene who was sat on the floor against a metal shelf of pantry goods.

"What the hell's going on?" Rick demanded in a low, steady voice.

Carter looked back at him anxiously, still not dropping the gun.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this place back from you?" Carter announced.

Rick, Morgan, Daryl and Georgie had slipped more inside, staring back at Carter and casting a glance or two into the armory where Tobin stood with Olivia, Spencer and Francine.

"This what you've been talking about in here?" Rick questioned them, taking another step closer inward.

"That's what _he_ was talking about," Spencer clarified as Tobin scratched his head in exasperation, glaring at Carter.

Rick began chewing on his lips, taking this all in. "See, I would have—I would have set up some lookouts," he muttered, giving Carter a side glance; looking almost as if he were amused. "That would have been the smart thing. You know, if I happened to—"

Rick cut his own self off by lunging forward and expertly taking the gun from Carter's hand, and then kicking the man in the back of the knee so he dropped forward onto the ground. He whipped around quickly and pointed the gun at the back of Carter's head. The man stared at the ground with both hands raised in a sort of surrender as everyone immediately tensed up at whether or not Rick would pull the trigger and put an end to Carter right then and there.

"You _really_ think you're gonna take this community from us? From Glenn, from Michonne, from Daryl or Georgie—from _me_?" he growled out, pressing the barrel against the back of Carter's head. "Do you have _any_ _idea who you're talking to_?"

"It was just me," Carter whimpered quietly, tears in his eyes.

"What?"

"It was—it was just me. Just—just kill me."

"Rick," Daryl spoke softly.

Rick looked up at the archer. It was like when they had gone into Atlanta to get Beth back, when Daryl had called him off killing that cop. It didn't need to be done, the same as Carter didn't need to be killed. Rick cast an eye away from Daryl, avoiding Morgan's gaze, which was no doubt judging, and fixated on Georgie. She looked back at him and nodded, saying as much with that simple gesture as Daryl had by simply saying his name.

"I'm good." Rick pulled the gun back and set the safety on. "I'm good," he nodded, passing the gun over Carter's head to Daryl, who took it and pocketed it, and then looked down at Carter. "You can try to work with us. You can try to survive. Would you do that?"

Carter slowly turned his head but couldn't bring himself to fully look at Rick; probably out of a mix of embarrassment, guilt and a little bit of fear. He did nod in place of an answer. His voice was lost on him for the moment.

"Good," Rick muttered. "Get up off your knees and go home. We got an early day tomorrow."

Carter nodded again and slowly stood up. He avoided eye contact with everyone, but briefly looked back at Eugene on the floor and muttered a quiet, "sorry."

"Okay," Eugene replied.

As soon as Carter had darted out the door, Tobin stepped forward to eye Rick. "We really had no part in this, Rick. He gathered us together to talk and we were trying to get him to back off that plan of his."

Rick nodded. "It's okay. Tensions are high because we got a lot at risk right now." He looked off toward the door and shared a knowing look with Daryl. "He'll learn or he won't."

Georgie stepped forward and leaned down slightly, holding both hands out to Eugene, who looked up at her with curious eyes. "C'mon," she urged.

Staring her in the eye, and then at her hands, Eugene obliged her and took her hands; allowing her to help him get back up to his feet. "Thank you."

"You alright?" she asked.

He brushed himself off and nodded gingerly. "This was just a moment in time. I had a bit of a scare, but yes, I will be alright." Eugene looked her in the eye again. "I thank you for your concern for my well-being, whether or not it's genuine."

Georgie narrowed her gaze at him, placing her hands on her hips. Even Rick turned around and looked at him questioningly. "Why wouldn't it be genuine?" she asked.

"Well, past experience between us. I know I haven't always been your favorite person," Eugene explained. "I am aware I tend to irritate and that, while on the road, I was an occasional thorn in your side ever since we met."

Georgie chuckled, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder. "Yeah, you _are_ irritating sometimes, but you've grown on me. And you earned my genuine concern when you risked yourself to help save Tara. You and I are good now. I promise I won't kick your teeth or cut your mullet off while you sleep anytime soon."

"I appreciate that."

Rick gestured at the food items on the floor. "You should get whatever it is you came in here for and head home, too."

"Okay." Eugene turned slightly, crouching down to pick up the canned goods, box of crackers, canned cheese spray and fruit cups he had dropped. There was also a glass jar of some sort of jam or preserves that was broken on the bottom and its contents oozing out. He left that there, however, for someone else to clean up. "Thank you, again," he added, looking between Rick and Georgie and then making a beeline for the door.

* * *

Not too long after, Morgan was sitting on the porch of the main house, using an old rag to rub some sort of oil along his staff. Judith had woken up for her nap and Rick had gone up to get her, and when he brought her back downstairs had noticed Morgan outside, and decided to join him.

"It's nice out," Morgan remarked, hearing Rick's footsteps approaching before he saw him.

"Yeah," Rick agreed somewhat solemnly as Judith began to babble to herself.

"Hope you don't mind. I wanted to enjoy the evening a little and I don't have a porch over there." Morgan gestured up the road toward the townhouses, so…"

Looking down at him, Rick pulled some keys out of his back pocket and tossed them to Morgan. "Get your stuff," he said. "You should stay with us…over here."

From inside the house, Michonne was approaching the door with a cup of tea in her hands. She briefly cast a glance over at Georgie who could hear the conversation between both men from where she sat at the kitchen island with her own cup of tea.

"You got room?"

"We'll make it. We don't need to do that anymore." Rick nodded his head up the street. "I know you, Morgan; even if this is the first time."

Georgie stood up off her stool and carried her mug over to the doorway beside Michonne. Both women just stood there silently, watching Rick and Morgan's interaction with each other and how Morgan was smiling up at Judith.

"You want to hold her?" Rick inquired.

Morgan chuckled. "Okay." Setting down his staff and getting up to his feet, he walked up the rest of the steps to stand in front of Rick and outstretch his arms to take Judith.

"This is Morgan," Rick introduced as Judith cooed. "He's a friend of mine."

"Hey. Hi," Morgan greeted the little girl. "Okay. Let me have a look at you."

As Morgan moved to sit back down with Judith in his arms, Rick cast a glance at the doorway and saw both Michonne and Georgie wearing small smiles on their faces. Simple moments like this made them forget the world beyond the walls for a little while. Winking at Georgie, Rick turned and sat down on the top step beside Morgan.

"Hey, hey. Hey, hey," Morgan muttered to Judith, smiling warmly at her. There really was nothing like holding a baby in your arms. "You with that man Carter, in the armory—that's you," he said to Rick. "You're still the same man I met in King County. The one that came back and told me it wasn't over. That was _you_; same you that's right in front of me right now."

"I wanted to kill him," Rick admitted, looking off at the road in front of them, "so it would be easier. So I wouldn't have to worry about how he could _screw_ up or what _stupid_ thing he'd do next because _that's_ who he is; just somebody who shouldn't be alive _now_." Rick sighed. "I wanted to kill him. But all that hit me and I realized I didn't have to do it. He doesn't get it. Somebody like that…they're gonna die no matter what."

As Morgan and Rick sat there, deep in conversation, Georgie placed a hand upon Michonne's arm, gesturing back into the house that they should give both men some privacy. Michonne nodded in agreement, and shut the front door quietly behind them.

* * *

After nightfall, Georgie was back at the armory, alone, with a pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other, doing inventory on the guns and ammo they had, so they knew what they might need to work with the following morning. It was quiet—_too_ quiet—and she kind of wished she had a radio or CD player of some sort so she could listen to some music.

The deafening silence in the room was broken, though, when the front door clicked open and footsteps followed.

"Hey."

Georgie turned around to find Rick standing in the doorway, and she smiled over at him. "What's up?"

"I was just getting more flares for tomorrow," he informed. "You're still coming, right?"

She nodded. "I am," she assured, reaching up and grabbing a box of flares off the top shelf in front of her. Passing them over to Rick, she closed the gap between them and brushed the bridge of his nose with her thumb. "I don't think you need a few of these little bandages anymore. Your cuts seem to be healing pretty nicely."

He gestured up at her face. "Your bruising's fading, too."

"We're on our way to looking like normal people again."

Rick smiled and nodded back at her. "Imagine that."

Letting out a small chuckle, Georgie turned away from him and tried to resume taking stock, expecting they would finish any conversation they were having later. Rick, however, hadn't made a move to leave just yet. He simply remained standing there, just inside the room.

She could sense him looking at her, but when she looked over her shoulder at him, she found he was glancing out the window, through the blinds, up at the dark sky and possibly looking for any signs of life on the road below.

"Did you need something else, Officer Handsome?"

Rick hesitated in answering at first, and set the box of flares down on a small table near him. "Actually, yeah."

"Oh?" Georgie turned to give him her full attention.

"Earlier this evening, with Morgan on the porch," he began, "when I asked him to move in with us; do you think that was a good idea?"

Georgie nodded. "I do. I mean, you know him more than any of us, so if you think it's the right call, then it is."

"Yeah, but I want to know if _you_ think it's the right call. I know it's pretty cramped already, even with having two houses between all of us."

"Well, technically, we have three." When Rick looked at her with slight confusion, she smiled and clarified, "The blue house. It was Jake's. I was his wife, Tristan was his son. The house mine now, in that sense. It's gotta be used for someone, and it's too much room for just one person, so having Morgan stay there by himself would just be wasteful, but a few people, a family inside it to make it a home and not just a house; I think we should consider that?"

"What do you mean? You wanna live there again?"

Georgie shrugged. "Not alone, not just with Tristan," she answered. "With you, Carl and Judith, too. I mean, if you want. The five of us together there; it would give the others more space to breathe in in the main house. Maggie and Glenn could take the master. I mean, they _are_ the married couple among us, anyway. They should have the luxury of the bigger bedroom with the en suite bathroom."

"But you really want to live in Jake's house?"

"It's not his house. And we made some amazing memories there the other night," she remarked. "You said it yourself. It's just a house, and anything bad that happened inside it was because of one person. Those memories were because of one person, not because of the house, and we can make more memories together there. Happy memories."

Rick stepped forward. "You sure?"

"I am."

Rick considered this and nodded. "Well, why don't we talk more on it later. This is a big move to make. I don't mean us living together as a family. I think we've pretty much agreed the two of us and our kids are a family already, even if we haven't gone and announced it out loud to everyone else," he commented, bringing his hands up to her arms, leaning his face closer to hers. "We should talk more on this later, though. Tomorrow night at dinner, after the dry run. We'll bring it up to the others, about our intentions."

"Okay."

"There's been a lot going on today. It's been a bit stressful." Smirking down at her, he added, "Wanna calm me down?"

Georgie snickered and rolled her eyes. "You're _always _stressed," she teased.

Rick shrugged. "It's a good thing I got you, then."

Turning from her, he closed the sliding door to the armory and set it on lock. Next he moved to the window and closed the blinds. There was an unmistakably mischievous smile dangling from his lips when he finally looked back over at her, and doing so up through his eyebrows, which lit a fire in her belly. Her breath hitched at that look alone; like he was a wolf and she was his prey.

"What exactly are you up to, Officer?" she asked with an amused sparkle in her eye.

Biting down on his bottom lip for a brief moment, Rick stalked right up to her and removed the pen and pad of paper from her hands, tossing them to the table with his box of flares. Without saying anything else, Rick placed his hands under her arms and hoisted her up into his arms and then pulled her down onto the floor as he claimed her lips with his.

* * *

"I know this sounds insane, but this is an insane world. We have to come for them, before they come for us. It's that simple," Rick called out, over the deafening sound of snarls in the quarry. He was standing on the back of a flatbed truck, looking out at everyone taking part in the dry run, and they were looking back at them. "This is where it all starts tomorrow. Tobin gets in the truck, opens the exit and we're off. He hops out, catches up with his team at red, staying on the west side of the road. Daryl gets on his bike—"

"You see that?" Sasha questioned in a raised voice, gesturing across the quarry at one of the semi-trucks blocking the other entrance into the quarry.

The ground underneath one of its front tires groaned and cracked under the mix of the truck's weight and general erosion. A huge chunk fell away from the wall and the cab of the truck lurched over the edge, causing everyone to stand at attention. The sound of sharp, twisting metal echoed around the quarry as the last bit of cliff edge keeping the truck in place gave way, sending the truck falling over, down into the pit, crushing several walkers.

More importantly, it provided a large opening for all of the walkers to escape.

"It's open!" Rick shouted. "We gotta do this now!" He jumped down off the flatbed and everyone began to scatter in order to put the plan to immediate work. "We're doing this now! Tobin's group, get moving, go!"

"No, Rick, we're not ready!" Carter shouted back. Saying he was panicked and nervous was an understatement.

"Sasha, Abraham—"

"Damn straight, we'll do it live," Abraham barked, like a soldier amped for battle.

"—you meet Daryl at red. Let him take them through the gauntlet!"

"Yeah, we meet at red," Sasha confirmed, understanding their part to play.

"Go!"

As more rock crumbled away from the cliff, the herd of walkers began to move. Glenn ran over to Rick and told him about going to the tractor place they all discussed earlier on their way to the quarry when going over the plan again.

"Alright, who else?" Rick called out.

"Rick, this was supposed to be a _dry run_," Carter pressed.

"We don't have the luxury of a dry run anymore, Carter. Get your shit together," Georgie barked, catching his eye as he snubbed her by glaring at her.

"Daryl, get ready!" Rick called out.

The archer had his crossbow trained upward, pointed at a walker pushing through the slight crack in the other two semi-trucks pushed together in front of them. "They're coming!" Daryl declared.

As Sasha drove away with Abraham, Carter just couldn't be bothered to get the hell out of Rick's way. "Rick, we haven't even gone through the whole plan!"

"You want to go back, go back. We're _finishing_ this," Rick snapped at him. Now was not the time for him to be contradicted. Carter could go take a flying leap into that horde of walkers for all he cared at this point. "Tobin! You hit it on my signal! They're heading for home; we don't have a choice! Get ready to hit the flares!" Rick held his arm up for a moment, and then pulled it downward as if pulling an imaginary lever. "Now!"

Tobin, began shooting his flares up toward the sky to divert the walkers' attention away from the direction they were going and to instead come their way. It seemed to be working for the most part as the severely pasty and emaciated walker Daryl had been aiming his crossbow at slipped between the two trucks in front of them, pulling its flesh right off its face and ripping open its chest in the process. Its ribcage became exposed and its intestines and other eternal organs began spilling out.

"Tobin, get the truck!" Rick shouted, just as Tobin hit the gas and moved the truck out of the way to allow the walkers to start staggering freely forward.

The walker that had pushed through the gap between the trucks was suddenly met with one of Daryl's bolts to the head and dropped instantly as the last glimmer of life that kept it mobile left its body for good. As the herd began pushing through, each team began to split off and go their separate ways to take on the tasks they had briefly discussed earlier in the morning.

Taking off on foot, running away along a car-lined narrow road out the quarry's gate 5, Rick, Georgie, Michonne and Morgan never broke stride. They soon exited out onto a regular road, which was when Rick paused, looking around, and brought is walkie-talkie up to his mouth and turned it on.

"You all have your assignments. You know where to rendezvous. Daryl leads them out. Sasha and Abraham join him at the bottom of the hill," he reiterated the plan, starting to walk on behind and catch up to the other three. "Glenn, you hit us when you take care of the walkers at the tractor place. That's the one thing we gotta get ahead of. Everybody keep your heads. Just keep up."

Cutting through the woods to their right, they eventually made it out onto the other road they needed to be on, where the wall had been built up and a few vehicles, including the RV with three orange balloons tied to the roof, awaited as an extra, precautionary barrier in case the metal plates began to buckle.

"Glenn, you there yet?" Rick radioed.

"_Almost. We'll have it handled before they get here. And we'll meet you at yellow,"_ came Glenn's static-y reply.

"Copy that." Hooking the walkie-talkie onto his belt, Rick came to a stop several feet away from the wall. Georgie stood on his right, Michonne on his left, and Morgan on the far left. "It'll hold."

"Well, that's good. You know, considering where we're standing," Michonne quipped.

Despite the seriousness of what they were trying to do and the air thick with tension because of it, Georgie couldn't help but smirk as she looked around Rick toward Michonne. "We could hide in the RV if we needed to, so we don't become trampled by the worst parade ever."

Rick cast a glance to his right at her and reached his hand out, placing it on the small of her back for a moment. Georgie responded by reaching her own hand back to grab his and just hold it tightly. Their fingers laced together as they both stared forward, waiting, as silence fell over them.

"Michonne," Morgan addressed suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Back when you were in that place, where I lived…did you take one of my protein bars?"

Georgie furrowed her brow, having no idea what he was talking about. Whatever it was had happened long before she met Rick's group.

"No," Michonne replied.

However, judging by the way Rick seemed to smirk ever so slightly at her answer, Georgie had a feeling Michonne was lying.

"See, I could have _sworn_ there was one more peanut butter left."

Michonne sighed. "That's how it is, isn't it? You always think there's one more peanut butter left."

"I could make us some peanut butter cookies when we get home," Georgie offered. "There's a Costco sized tub of peanut butter back at the pantry that Olivia's hording. She thinks I didn't notice her hiding it. She thought wrong."

Morgan leaned backward to get a glimpse of Georgie. "I thought Carol was the resident homemaker in your group."

Georgie went to reply but Rick beat her to the punch.

"Georgie's got some domestic skills up her sleeve," he remarked, still looking forward. "You should see what she can do with some toasted pecans, vegetable oil, vanilla extract and brown sugar."

Squinting from the sunlight, Georgie looked up at Rick's profile and smiled. "You remember exactly what I used?"

"You told me what was in that stuff," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but that was about a month and a half ago and I only mentioned it once."

"What can I say? A pretty lady told me something interesting, so I committed it to memory."

"How long have the two of you known each other? Since the prison, too?" Morgan wondered.

Rick chuckled a little, giving Georgie's hand a squeeze. "A month and a half."

"Really? Huh. I would've assumed longer."

"Carol found her after we lost the prison. Georgie helped Carol save the rest of us from some really bad people almost a week later," Rick explained. "We had all gotten separated. Me and Carl thought Judith was dead. Turns out a friend of ours, who's no longer with us, had her. He met up with Carol and Georgie not long after. Georgie was helping to take care of Judith."

"Loved that little girl since day one," Georgie muttered.

Michonne nodded with a smile. "She _is_ very loveable. And cute. She obviously looks like her mother," she added in a teasing tone.

Rick couldn't disagree. He, personally, saw a lot of Lori in Judith, which made it easier to forget the likelihood that he wasn't the little girl's biological father.

The foursome fell quiet again.

Waiting like they were was like watching paint dry; if once the paint dried imminent danger awaited them.

After a while, the sound of snarls began to slowly echo through the air, signifying that the herd was getting close. Rick walked up to the RV and ascended the ladder attached to the back of it. Crouched down on the roof with his walkie-talkie, he tried reaching out to Glenn once more about the walkers they'd come across that morning at the tractor store. The walkers inside were banging on the metal doors and the noise would most likely distract the herd and send them off-course, which is where Glenn, Heath and Nicholas had gone—to do away with them.

"Glenn, you have to hurry. The noise could distract the herd right off the road. Talk to me."

After a moment of radio silence, the walkie-talkie crackled to life on the other end.

"_We're here."_

Rick turned and looked down the road on the other side of the wall from where he and the other three had been standing. There was no sign of the walkers, but there were so many of them that it was getting easier to hear them in the distance. Standing back up, he walked over to the back of the RV and climbed back down.

About twenty minutes later, the noise got considerably louder. Peeking through the small breaks in the wall, Rick could see the herd coming up the road, being led by Daryl on his bike and Sasha and Abraham beside him in the car.

Aiming their flare guns to left, where the road on the other side of the wall curved, the foursome each shot their flares into the sky so the sound grabbed the herd's attention and directed them down Marshall Road to continue onto Redding Road. They continued firing flare after flare. Rick got up onto the roof of a car so his would go farther.

As Daryl, Sasha and Abraham rounded the curve with their respective vehicles at practically a snail crawl, the walkers came right up to the wall but were easily lured up the road by the trio before them, as well as with the help of the flares. Several walkers began slamming into the metal plating of the wall, causing it to bow slightly in places. The snarling was so loud it was actually terrifying to think of that many just feet away, separated by thin sheets of metal and a few cars and an RV. If that wall went down, there'd be no holding them back.

The foursome got closer to the wall, listening to the way the walkers slammed into it. Anxiety levels were rising, but so far the dry run turned actual run was going to plan.

Rick looked to his left where Michonne and Georgie stood together; nodding at them as if silently assuring them they would be okay, that everything would work out.

Both women seemed a little iffy, either way.

"It'll hold," he whispered, repeating his earlier statement.

* * *

Once the last remnants of the herd had more or less gone by the wall, Rick led the other three into the woods where they were going to rendezvous with the Glenn's team and Tobin's team. Daryl, Sasha and Abraham's slow task of getting the herd away would take them upwards of six hours at the pace they had to go.

In the thickness of the trees, the stench of that many rotting bodies filled the air along with the crispness of fresh leaves and soil underfoot. It was certainly a conflicting mix of smells. Rick's group remained silent in the woods, listening to the snarls on the road nearby as the dead wandered by, sharing cautious looks with each other while they waited for the other two teams to meet up with them.

It was probably thirty minutes later when the other two teams seemed to converge; with Glenn, Heath and Nicholas showing up last, shoving tree branches out of their way and looking around anxiously for some friendly faces. To grab their attention, Rick whistled once and then he walked forward. The younger man joined him at his side and everyone edged up toward the woods' border, so they could see the walkers through the threes, no more than fifteen to twenty feet away.

"It's working," Carter muttered. It seemed he was officially extending an olive branch by the way offered his hand to Rick. "You were right."

As Rick shook Carter's hand, he turned to the others. "Everyone, we need to finish this. We have to keep moving and fan out down that thing front to back. Like we said, cops at a parade."

"The worst parade ever, mind you," Georgie added, speaking as lowly as Rick was as not to avert any attention from the walkers going by. "Don't anyone get lax. Keep your wits about you."

Rick nodded at her statement and turned to Glenn. "Glenn, you take the back. You got the other walkie."

"Got it," Glenn agreed.

"If it gets sloppy, we fire our weapons, pull them back on track."

"Just one straggler can lead others astray," Georgie remarked, removing her knife from its sheathing to have it at the ready. "If you see that happening, you kill it and move on."

"I'll hit the front," Carter offered, taking off mere seconds later.

Rick acknowledged the other man with a nod. "Okay, one after the other," he said before gesturing to Georgie to follow along with him. He hadn't been lying when he had told her he wanted her at his side during everything.

While darting in and around trees, while maintaining an eye on the walkers, Rick turned and glanced at Georgie. She felt his eyes on her and looked back, sharing a brief and small smile with him.

"This will work out. We're gonna be fine," she muttered, just as she tripped over a decomposing log covered with leaves.

She didn't fall. She only lost her footing for half a second, but Rick still reached out for her to make sure she remained upright and was okay.

"Now's not the time to turn into a klutz," he teased.

"Figures that would happen two seconds after I what I just said," Georgie snickered, shaking her head as they continued onward. "Gotta love iro—"

Before she could get the word "irony" out, panicked screaming filled the air, causing everyone to stop for a moment and figure out where it was coming from.

Rick narrowed his gaze and gritted his teeth. Whoever it was wouldn't stop screaming, and it was causing the walkers to move away from the road and head toward the woods up ahead.

"Tobin, they're breaking off," he spoke into his walkie-talkie.

"_What do you want us to do?"_

"Fire your guns and draw them back."

Hooking the walkie-talkie back onto his belt, Rick pulled out his pocket knife. It would be easier to dispatch any walkers, as using his own gun would draw more attention away from the road. Running fast and hard, Georgie, Michonne and Morgan got left behind in his dust, although they weren't too far behind. Because Georgie had been closer to Rick initially, she made it to where he was before the other two, and found Rick shoving his blade up into the underside of an emaciated walker's skull. As that walker, whose entrails had gotten it tied up to a tree trunk, fell back dead against another tree trunk, ripping its intestines out in the process, Rick darted around and dropped to a crouching position.

Georgie looked down and saw it was Carter, lying on the ground, with a gaping wound in the right side of his face that was bleeding profusely. He was still screaming and Rick was trying, and failing, to hush him the fuck up.

"Carter, take a breath," Rick urged. "Carter."

Carter kept screaming though, holding his hand to his face as blood soaked over it. "Oh God!"

Georgie crouched down beside Rick and eyed him. Pocketing her hunting knife, she then covered her hand over Carter's forehead to still him as best as she could. "Carter, shh," she hushed. "I know it hurts, but you gotta be quiet."

He cast terrified eyes over at her, but wouldn't let up screaming. Rick struggled to maintain his grasp on the main, attempting to cover his mouth with his to silence his screams, even though that wouldn't help Carter at all. There would be no saving him; not with a bite like the one he'd received. They couldn't just cut off part of his face to stop the infection from spreading.

Carter was as good as dead now. It was just a matter of stopping him from getting everyone else killed.

His hand slipping from the blood pouring from Carter's face, Rick continued to urge the younger man to be quiet. When he couldn't wait any longer, it was time to take matters into his own hands. With a nod to Georgie, she understood the task that he was going to undertake. Gripping her hand more firmly on Carter's forehead, she turned his head toward her so that he was looking at her. Mere seconds later, Rick jammed his knife into the base of Carter's skull, silencing him forever.

Gun shots began ringing out not far off and Tobin's voice crackled over the radio shortly after.

"_It's working. The gunfire is bringing them back on the road."_

Rick looked to his right, which alerted Georgie that someone else was there with them. When she looked up as well, she saw it was Morgan standing there and it was hard to read the look on his face. If she didn't know any better, Georgie could've swore he looked disappointed.

Rick, with her help, did what had to be done, though. Carter's death was imminent and Rick expedited it out of mercy and their own safety. There was nothing for Morgan to be judgmental over, if that's what he was even doing. But then she remembered what she and Michonne had heard Rick telling Morgan about Carter on the front steps the evening before.

"_Somebody like that…they're gonna die no matter what."_

Talk about foreshadowing.

Michonne appeared just then, looking down with mild shock at Carter's dead body as Rick brought his walkie-talkie back up to his mouth.

"You got 'em, Tobin."

"_Copy that. What was that screaming?"_

"That was Carter," Rick replied. "He got bit right in the face. I stopped him."

He stood up and walked over to one of the other trees near the slumped over walker, returning his walkie-talkie in place while Michonne and Morgan continued to look down at Carter's body. Georgie got up as well, wiping Carter's blood off her hands and onto her pants.

"You didn't stop him alone," Georgie muttered to Rick as she stepped closer to him.

He nodded appreciatively at her and then turned toward the other two, walking directly up to Morgan who looked like he was either meditating or reining in some sort of anger, or both. "We have a good hour until we have 'em to green when we hand them off to Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham," he spoke. "Why don't you head back, tell everyone what's happening? They should know."

"Okay, Rick, I just—"

"Will you do that for me?"

Both men shared a look with each other; Rick's stern and Morgan's relenting. Whatever Morgan was going to say slipped away from him as he nodded his confirmation to Rick's request.

"I'll take care of that one," Rick muttered, gesturing to a walker come toward them from between some trees. "Michonne, you take point."

As he stalked off, Georgie turned to Morgan and studied him a bit more. He really was a tough egg to crack. "It had to be done, you know," she assured, pointing down at Carter. "He was going to die anyway and his screaming would was a distraction to the herd. It could've gotten us killed or worse; led them toward Alexandria, which we don't need or want. His death was fast and painless. It had to—"

"I know it's how it is," Morgan cut Georgie off, looking up at her and then at Michonne. "I do."

"Yeah," Michonne frowned. "I do, too."

As she stepped away to keep lookout, Morgan wandered off through the woods to head back in the direction of Alexandria as Rick had asked. Rick took down the approaching walker with his knife to its head and then crouched down beside the decayed body, looking out at the road at the herd still going by. Georgie cast a sidelong glance at Michonne but the other woman kept her focus forward.

Looking down at her bloodstained hands, Georgie wasn't bothered at all by the sight. It had been a while since she'd had to get her hands dirty like that and, for a moment, she wondered if living within the walls of Alexandria were making her soft.

How strange it was that _not_ getting blood on her hands felt like the unnatural thing to do.

Retrieving her knife again, she gripped it tight in her hand and walked closer to Rick just as he stood up.

"We need to keep moving," he remarked, looking her in the eye. Reaching for her hand, he held onto it for a moment, running his thumb over her knuckles. "We gotta finish this," reiterating to her what he'd said to Morgan.

"And we will."

Rick sighed. "Maybe you should head back with Morgan, for the kids."

"The kids have plenty of people there to protect them and keep them safe. They have Carol," she replied, and smirked knowingly when she uttered Carol's name.

He nodded, agreeing with that last bit without having to go into why. They both knew all too well how capable Carol was of protecting the ones she loved. "Yeah, they do."

"We gotta keep with this, to make sure they stay safe."

Looking down at her hand in his, Rick nodded again; slightly oblivious to the way Georgie was watching his face and how his curls were stringy from sweat and clinging around his forehead and the tops of his ears.

"By my side then?" he questioned, although it wasn't much of a question.

He knew her answer would be in the affirmative.

"Till the end of the line," she confirmed.

Rick looked back up at her and smiled, stealing a moment to kiss her before gesturing toward Michonne with a bob of his head for them to start moving along.

As he began walking side by side with both women, keeping his eye on the herd parallel to them on the road, Rick's head snapped to the right, toward the depths of the woods, at the sound of a loud horn blaring without letting up. The look on his face was sudden and sheer panic. Michonne looked around, and then focused on the walkers, at how they were slowly turning away from the road from the noise.

Darting away from the edge of the woods, Rick took temporary coverage behind a tree alongside Georgie as Michonne addressed them both.

"Whatever that is, it's far," she remarked.

Georgie's nerves shot up into the stratosphere with realization and complete fear. "It sounds like it's coming from—"

Rick eyed both women and finished Georgie's train of thought. "Home."

The three of them took off like wildfire through the trees.

Meanwhile, the entire horde began to leave the road and amble into the trees to follow the sound; all hundreds, if not thousands, of them.


	27. Just Keep Going

_"__If you're going through hell, keep going." _— Winston Churchill

* * *

Sweat was running down Georgie's face from her hairline, temples and the back of her neck. Her calves and thighs were aching from how hard she was running across the uneven forest floor and her chest felt like it was going to explode from breathing so hard and the fact that anxiety was twisting at her heart and stomach like a blender on high speed. Physically, she was uncomfortable, but it was nowhere near as terrible as how she felt emotionally and mentally.

That horn, that deplorable sound was too loud and the walkers were going off course because they were being drawn to the sound which was coming from Alexandria. The mass of undead bodies would descend upon their home and the loved ones they had left behind within the walls; unaware of what would befall them if the walkers couldn't be pulled back.

There were so many lives to think of and keep safe. After all, that's what leading the walkers away from the quarry had been all about. However, the only lives Georgie gave a shit about were her and Rick's kids and their friends. At this point, Georgie honestly didn't care what happened to the Alexandrians. She wanted to get home and protect her son, Carl and Judith. She wanted to be there alongside Carol, Maggie, Rosita, Tara and, hell…even Eugene. Gabriel? Not so much. Fuck Gabriel.

"Try again," Glenn panted.

Rick and Georgie joined the younger man at his side, coming to a stop, as Rick brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth, "Tobin, it's not stopping. Light it up. You hear me?" There was nothing but static on the other end in response. "_Tobin_." As a walker came toward them, they began to move onward. "Michonne."

"Got it," Michonne announced, slicing through its head with a graceful upswing of her katana.

As the foursome ran up the forest's incline, the other Alexandrians that had come with them that morning followed behind, and didn't seem to be fairing as well.

"Shit! Shit! It was half. Jesus, it was more than half," an Alexandrian by the name of Sturgess cried like a child who'd just seen the Boogie Man come out from under his bed.

"We just gotta stay ahead of them," a female Alexandrian named Anne replied with a more calm and collected manner. "They walk, we run."

"_Rick," _came Daryl's voice over the radio.

"I'm here," he answered into his walkie-talkie.

"_What's going on back there_?"

"Half of them broke off. They're going toward Alexandria."

"_Towards you?" _Abraham asked through the static on his end.

"We ran ahead. There's a horn or something. Loud, coming from the east. It's not stopping."

"_I'm gonna gas it up, turn back," _Daryl insisted.

"We have it. You keep going."

"_They're gonna need our help."_

"Gotta keep the herd moving."

"_Not if it's going down, we don't."_

"The rest of that herd turns around; the bad back there gets worse." No response came right away. Rick took a brief moment to throw a wary glance toward Georgie who was staring straight ahead; focused on continuing forward and not breaking pace, but he could tell she was listening just as carefully to the back and forth over the radio. "Daryl?"

"Yeah, I heard you."

Up the incline they all continued. For a moment, Nicholas paused and then Anne fell forward, hooking her foot in a rut in the ground or something. Everyone stopped long enough to make sure she was okay.

"You okay?" Glenn asked, immediately at the brunette's side.

"It's my ankle," she bit out, in mild pain, as she tried standing up on her own.

Glenn, however, opted to help by throwing her arm around his shoulder as she hopped along beside him. "Alright, come on. Grab on. Let's go. Come on."

At the top of the incline, they reached a leaf-covered dirt road of sorts. Instinctively, Georgie reached her hand out toward Rick's. It was a way of mentally and physically touching base with each other, to assure one another that they were okay and they would get through whatever this was. As the others began to step out of the woods and join them on the road, Rick gave her a knowing look in response that said so much to her.

They were both thinking of their kids and they were scared, but right now they had to do what needed to be done to keep them safe, even if it met putting themselves at risk. Such was the life of a parent in the apocalypse.

"All right, listen up. Here's the new plan," Rick declared. "I go back, get the RV, circle around the woods on Redding. I'll get in front of them before they get there. I can lead them away again."

"RV's a mile back. I can go with you," offered David, another Alexandrian, quite admirably.

"I'll handle it. Just get home. They might need you there." Looking to his own with a nod of his head, Rick muttered, "Glenn, Georgie, Michonne." As they stepped away from the others to have a sidebar with him, he kept walking, forcing them to follow as he talked. "If something's in front of you, you kill it. No hiding, no waiting. You keep going."

"I'm going with you. You can't do this on your own," Glenn asserted.

"If anyone's going with him, it's me."

Rick looked between his lover and his friend. "Neither of you are," he maintained. "I can do this."

"You need to help me," Michonne whispered as she primarily eyed Glenn. "We've got to get these people back."

"Yeah," Rick muttered. "Thing is, they aren't all gonna make it."

"_Rick_."

"You _try_ to save them, you _try_, but they can't keep up, you keep going. You have to. You make _sure_ you get back." His eyes flitted from each of the three standing around him, falling lastly on Georgie.

With pursed lips, she steeled herself at the idea of separating from him. This was too dangerous of a task for him to undertake by himself and if something went wrong, how would she ever know? "I don't like this," she remarked quietly.

"You don't have to like it, Georgie. You just gotta do it, alright?"

She couldn't reply; she just cast an eye over at Glenn who seemed just as reluctant to let Rick go off on his own as well.

As they let Rick's decision settle among them, a scream of pain came from the trees where they'd left the Alexandrians, along with the familiar snarl of a walker. Running to see who it was, they discovered it was Barnes, yet another of the Alexandrians, who was lying on his back beside some trees while a walker was biting into his throat. Rick was at the man's side as quick as possible, trying hard to pry the walker away. As soon as the walker was separated from Barnes, it fell backward, ripping out a chunk from the front of Barnes' throat. Barnes stopped crying out in pain as he choked on the blood pouring from the now gaping wound while Michonne shoved the end of her katana into the walker's face.

The Alexandrians stood around helplessly and in shock at the death of another their own, which also proved Rick right in that not all of them — meaning the Alexandrians — would make it back.

Crouching down beside Barnes' body, Georgie removed her hunting knife from its sheath on her hip and shoved the blade into one of his eye sockets. There was no saving him now, the same as there had been no saving Carter. It was a mercy kill, plain and simple, and fortunately the Alexandrians seemed to understand that by their lack of shock and horror over the move she'd made. That wasn't to say, however, that they weren't distraught by the ordeal.

As Georgie wiped her blade on Barnes' shirt, she stood up between Rick and Glenn and looked off toward the direction of Alexandria.

At the lack of noise in the distance.

"The horn stopped," Rick stated the obvious. "Good." Stepping around, he crouched down beside Barnes' body instead and began to remove the gun and what looked to be a granola bar from the dead man. He stared up at the others and stated in a firm tone, "Get back safe."

Standing back up, Rick walked past the Alexandrians, leaving them behind with his people, without another word. Not even to Georgie.

Overcome with a wave of dread, Georgie stalked off over to him as she returned her knife to its safekeeping. Reaching her hand out, as the others began to make their way back home toward Alexandria, she grabbed onto Rick's wrist and stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Rick lifted his eyes up from the ground and rested them upon Georgie's face.

"Not even a goodbye or good luck?" she questioned. "Don't do that. Not to me."

Rick frowned; guilt appearing on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm just—distracted." Tucking Barnes' gun into the back of his pants and then sticking the granola bar into one of his pockets, he lifted his right hand to the back of Georgie's head, pulling her toward him in a tender embrace. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders as he turned his head and placed a kiss upon her cheek. "Please be safe." When he pulled back from her, he looked her in the eye with complete seriousness and concern. "I wanna be able to come back home to you."

"You will," she assured, nodding her head. Leaning forward, she placed her lips upon his and the two of them hesitating in parting from the worry that it could be their last kiss. "You be safe, too," Georgie added when they finally came up for air. "You come home to me."

"I will."

With a nod toward each other and hands lingering upon hands, Rick and Georgie forced themselves to step back and separate. Inhaling a steadying breath, she stepped around him and walked away, back toward the others. Georgie clenched her jaw, unaware that Rick had stolen a glance back at her before he, himself, continued forward in the opposite direction.

* * *

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes of walking through the woods with the others when Georgie began to have second thoughts. Her hands went back and forth between being clenched into fists at her side or her fingers fidgeting. She hated leaving Rick to go off on his own. Two heads were supposed to be better than one. Even if it wasn't her, _someone_ should have gone with him, regardless of what he claimed.

"Why are you still here?"

Georgie lifted her head and turned to look at Michonne with a questioning gaze. "Huh?"

"You're not here mentally," the other woman voiced quietly. "So why are you still here physically?"

"I need to get home. The kids."

"And you will. Just not with us."

Georgie snickered. "You kicking me out of the band?"

"You really want to be here with us or back there with him?" Michonne shook her head, as if answering her own question. "Rick is stubborn as a bull with a bit of a savior complex. You know that. He doesn't always accept help when he needs it but he'll give it to those who do. He can't and shouldn't do this on his own." She gestured to the others around them. "There's enough of us. There's only one of Rick."

"The kids, though."

"They'll be okay. We'll get home to them, make sure they're safe. But someone needs to be with Rick and make sure he's safe, too, and I know you want that to be you."

Georgie nodded slowly in agreement. "I do."

"So then what's keeping you? We got this. Go."

Both women stopped walking for a moment and then both nodded at each other. Without another word spoken, Michonne looked forward and Georgie turned and began to run off in the opposite direction through the woods where they had all come from. Neither had said goodbye. It was just inherently known, or at least believed, that they would see each other again soon enough.

Georgie unsheathed her hunting knife and darted around tree after tree, dead leaves and twigs crunching and snapping under the soles of her boots. A few spindly branches scratched at her bare arms but not hard enough where it drew blood. It stung, sure, but it was minimal pain that was soon forgotten after a few moments.

Having always had a decent sense of direction, for the most part, finding her way back toward Rick was more or less easy enough. She was running fast enough through the forest that she reached the dead bodies of Barnes and the walkers where they'd left them in half the time it had taken to leave them behind. If she kept up the pace, and managed to figure out the precise direction Rick had continued along, she would get to him in no more than ten or fifteen minutes if she was lucky.

Her lungs were burning from all the exertion before long and she so desperately wanted to stop and take a breather, but adrenaline kicked in where she needed it, here and there. A few walkers tried lunging at her, but she was faster; either ducking out of their way or taking a quick moment to stab them in the skull.

From the time she'd spent on the road with Rick and the others, she'd picked up some tracking tips from Daryl. There had been one day, in the time immediately following Beth's death in Atlanta, when they had all stopped to rest and were dangerously low on food. Daryl was going to go off on his own to hunt some squirrels, rabbits or whatever else he could catch, and Georgie had asked if she could join him. She remembered having a particularly bad day, emotionally. It was before Greensboro and the whole debacle of thinking she had found her son's dead body in that hidden room, but she still had those moments of doubt she would ever find him. That day, going off with Daryl for a few hours, had been no different. And it was nice to break away from the others for a bit and focus on something entirely different.

She was putting what little bit of tracking she'd learned from the shaggy-haired archer to good use now. She saw large footprints here and there that looked fresh. They weren't smudged in the dirt, so she knew the footprints didn't come from a walker dragging its feet, but instead from a living person.

As she neared the edge of the woods, a walker practically jumped out at her, causing her to yelp slightly. Because the section of woods she was in was still part of that incline, being startled as she was caused her to lose her footing. Georgie fell backward onto her ass and somersaulted, feet over head, until she came to rest upon her back while staring up at the walker that had dropped to its knees and was reaching out toward her with decayed fingers. Her knife had been knocked free of her hand in her tumble and was out of reach, putting her in a terrible predicament as the walker began to climb over her body; reaching for her face as it chomped at air with a jaw that was severely dislocated and held together by some remaining tendons in its face.

She kicked her leg up between its legs but, as it was dead, there was no pain for the walker to register or get angry about. It just kept trying to come at her like that pink Duracell bunny from the commercials. Pushing against its virtually skeletal chest seemed futile. Georgie was still exhausted from running through the words as hard and fast as she had been that her arms felt like wet noodles.

"No," she whimpered as its teeth came nearer to her neck.

Digging her fingers into its eye sockets as a last ditch effort, Georgie struggled to reach the brain and was almost there when a figure appeared, standing over her and the walker, and the blur of something swinging downward.

Blood splattered a little onto Georgie's face and she instinctively closed both her eyes and her mouth. The walker's body slumped down upon hers for a moment before whoever had arrived lifted it off her.

"What happened to the others?"

Georgie popped her eyes open and found herself staring up at Rick; his curls clinging damply around his face, sweat glistening on his skin and his blue eyes casting a mix of concern and aggravation at her. She let out a breath of relief at the sight of him.

"On their way back to Alexandria, like you told them," she replied as he offered her his hand to help her up to her feet.

"And why aren't you?" He leaned in as he spoke, gritting his teeth.

Georgie shrugged. "I couldn't…I couldn't go back without you. I couldn't let you do this alo—" Before she could even finish, Rick was walking away, shaking virtually blackened walker blood from the blade of his knife. "Rick, I'm sorry. I couldn't do it."

He looked briefly over his shoulder at her, but kept walking as he took note that she had bent down to pick her knife up off the ground. "So you wanted to risk our kids losing both of us today?"

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's not," she insisted, hurrying to catch up to him. "This is none of our fault and we don't know what's going to happen. What if my going with the others would've been more dangerous? What if I got myself killed from protecting those nitwits who don't know their ass from a hole in the ground? Huh?" He didn't respond, just kept stalking forward, but she matched his pace as she hurried along with him at his side. "If I'm dying today it's at your side, either together or in your arms, or both."

Rick stopped for a moment and turned to look her directly in the eye. "You ain't dying today."

Georgie stared back, the right side of her mouth lifting slightly in a half smirk. "What a coincidence. I had no _plans_ on dying today."

Rolling his eyes, but clearly not aggravated with her anymore, if he truly even was to begin with, Rick gestured for her to keep moving as he did just that.

Together they began to sprint down the remainder of the incline, around trees and passing the occasional walker which they easily dispatched. After barely five minutes more, they came out onto the section of Redding Road the walkers had passed along earlier, but it was now barren. The sun was beating down on them the instant they stepped foot out of the protection of the forest's shade. Heat simmering off the pavement gave the appearance of water on the road a ways up, which they both knew was just a mirage. However, water cooling and soothing their throats would've been greatly welcomed at that moment.

Without hesitation, Rick and Georgie began to run up the road in the direction of the wall that had been built at the intersections of Marshall and Redding roads, where the RV was parked on the other side. Sweat was dripping relentlessly down their faces, the backs of their necks and their backs in general. Feeling and looking as they did suddenly felt like when they were on the road after Greensboro, those few days before Aaron found them, when that heat wave and the absence of food and water was doing a number on all of them.

They continued running, stopping once in a while to catch their breath and make sure the other wasn't about to pass out from heat stroke. Not too long after, they spotted a few walkers up the road from them, crouched down over a fresh corpse they were feasting on.

At that same moment, Rick's walkie-talkie crackled to life as he pulled out his knife and went after the first walker that stood up when it noticed their presence.

"_Rick, it's Glenn. We're in a town five degrees east of the green marker. If you get around on Redding in the next 20 minutes, you should be good. I think that's how far we're ahead of the herd." _

Rick took out that first walker by jamming his knife into the side of its skull. However, he struggled trying to get it back out and, in the process, the blade broke off.

"_I'm gonna try to set a fire and distract them. If you don't see smoke, they're still coming your way." _

Georgie went after the third walker while Rick went after the second; the one with a machete lodged in its right shoulder.

"_I got to go. Good luck, dumbass."_

Whipping her head around after dropping the third walker with her hunting knife, Georgie looked at Rick who was clenching his left hand tight and wincing in pain. "What happened? Are you bit?" she asked nervously. Instinctively she reached for his hand to inspect whatever wound he'd received.

"No," he shook his head and held up the machete. "Cut it on this."

"Is it gonna be okay?" She wasn't entirely convinced.

"Yeah," he insisted as he continued to walk forward. "It's my blood, not his."

Rick gestured toward that second walker, now lying completely dead on the ground and then crouched down beside the body of the dead man that the walkers had been devouring. Taking a breath and looking upward, he lifted the machete and then drove it down into the man's forehead.

"Check his pockets," Georgie advised, wiping the blood from his hand that had transferred onto hers upon her pants.

Rick took a gun off the dead man and shoved it into the satchel lying beside him on the ground. He also took two knives and a granola bar; tossing them into the satchel as well.

"Give me the bag."

"I got it," Rick remarked stubbornly, throwing the strap over his shoulder and draping the satchel across his chest to rest upon his hip.

She wasn't going to fight him over it, so she just stepped back as he stood up. With a nod of his head, Rick indicated that they continue onward.

"When we get to the RV, you gotta let me take a look at your hand," Georgie commented as they resumed their run up the road with renewed vigor. "We should have a few minutes of downtime while we wait for Glenn's signal and you shouldn't let that cut stay open like that too long."

"Yes, mother."

"Hey, I'm just trying to look out for the man I love," Georgie panted. "So sue me."

Rick tried his best not to smirk. "It's appreciated," he answered quietly, between haggard breaths.

* * *

Minutes up the road, Rick was gritting his teeth as he ignored the pain he was in. His lungs and legs felt like they were on fire from all the running, his feet were throbbing and he was more than positive he had a blister or two inside his boots, and the cut on his hand still stung like a motherfucker. His legs being slightly longer meant that Georgie was running at a few paces behind him but he wouldn't allow her to get left behind. If she had to stop to catch her breath, then he did too. Fortunately, they approached the wall where there was a huge pile of walkers, writhing from where they'd dropped after smashing themselves into the wall and getting subsequently trampled by the others in the process.

Not one walker was in the position to get free from the pile and all they could do was reach aimlessly at Rick and Georgie as the pair cut across to the embankment on the side of Marshall Road. They darted around the edge of the wall that reached into the trees and then back down the other side with Rick leading the way to the RV. As soon as he got the door open, he gestured for Georgie to climb in first, and then followed after her. Tossing the satchel down between the driver's seat and the passenger seat, Rick reached under the console for where the keys had been stashed. Georgie took a seat beside him, mentally questioning herself in regard to whether or not she should insist on driving, what with the cut on the palm of his hand.

Turning the key and bringing the vehicle to life, Rick pulled the RV away with a rough lurch, sending Georgie sideways toward him. She caught herself, placing her hands out upon the dashboard as she glanced at him briefly and then ahead of them at the other half of Redding they were now traveling quickly down.

"You okay to drive?" she asked, casting him a concerned gaze as she watched his chest heaving from being able to catch his breath. "I can do it."

"No, I got it."

Georgie didn't say anything else. She sat back in her seat and tipped her head against the headrest, letting her own breathing get back to normal. Licking her dry, chapped lips, she allowed herself to close her eyes for a little bit. She was trying not to think too negatively; about what was headed toward Alexandria.

If that herd reached the walls, and the walls came down, where would everyone inside go? Would they do their best and barricade themselves indoors. The townhouses would be ideal. Everyone should gather there, preferably on the top floors; as far away from the walkers as possible. If they had to flee, hopefully they could make it out safely. But where would they go? How would Rick and she find them? And the worst thought of all: what if the herd got in and tore their family apart? What if they got back too late? What if all that was left of their children and their friends were shredded limbs and bloody, internal organs strewn everywhere?

Leaning forward, Georgie placed her face in her hands and sighed nervously.

If she managed to find out who was behind that horn, she was going to rip their larynx out with her bare hands. If it weren't for that damned horn, everything would've been fine. The herd would've remained on course and not headed to Alexandria, which had been the entire point of getting them out of the quarry to begin with.

"You okay?" Rick questioned after a moment.

"Having a mini panic attack, maybe, but I'll live," she replied, sitting up slowly.

Rick stole a look at her and nodded. His breath seemed shaky, and not just from being winded from the running anymore. He was feeling just as scared, nervous, angry and worried as she was. "It'll be okay," he remarked, as if reading her mind. "_They'll_ be okay."

"I fucking hope so." Georgie chewed on the inside of her bottom lip for a moment, shaking her head. "I should've stayed home. I should be there right now for Tristan, and for Carl and Judith. They're so exposed, even with the walls and the people there to protect them. They don't know what's coming." Tears were stinging her eyes. "And that horn…what was that horn? Who was doing that? Wh-what if the wall doesn't hold?"

"It's gonna be okay," Rick repeated, more adamantly, glancing at her again.

"I'm a shitty mother. I should've stayed with the kids. I lost Avery and I thought I lost Tristan so many times and now it's going to happen for real, isn't it? I should've stayed behind in Alexandria this morning. Tristan is not handling his father being dead very well and that's on me, and I have been passing him off to Carol to look after while I helped with the wall and this fucking herd and I should be there!"

Georgie had never had panic attacks before, but if she was going to put a name on what she was feeling at the moment, that was it. The unrelenting fear, worry and dread that were weighing down on her got her pulse racing and her hands shaking. She turned away from Rick so he wouldn't see her breakdown and cry. She could tell he was trying to look at her while maintaining an eye on the road.

As the RV slowed to a stop, Rick put it into park and then turned off the ignition. "Georgie, look at me." She didn't, so he continued regardless. "You're _not_ a shitty mother. You're strong, you're a born leader. You love hard and fierce and that's what makes you great. We all have our moments of weakness, but you gotta get it together. We can't both break down right now."

Hesitantly, Georgie turned to her left, wiping her tears with the back of her hand when she looked over at Rick too see he was just as shaken as she was. "I'm sorry," she replied, trying to get her breathing and nerves in check. "I just…I guess I just needed to…"

"It's alright," he assured, seemingly understanding what she was trying to say, even if _she_ wasn't. Reaching down, he unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt and brought it up to his lips. "Glenn. Georgie and I are in place by my best guess. You guys make it back yet?" There was only static hissing back at him in response. "_Glenn_."

More static.

Georgie blinked a few times as she turned her upper torso more toward Rick and nodded at him. "Try the others."

Nodding back, Rick took a deep breath and held the button in again. "Tobin, you there?"

"Keep trying," she urged, brushing some of her hair off her face.

"Daryl?"

There was static again, but then it was followed by the sound of a revved up engine.

"_I'm here."_

Rick looked at Georgie with a sigh of mild relief. "Won't be long now," he informed. "They're almost here. We'll get them going your way again." Glancing at Georgie, he reassuringly mouthed the words 'we will' to her.

"I hope so," she muttered, in barely above a whisper.

"_How 'bout that, Daryl? He's gonna be coming our way,"_ Sasha's voice crackled over the radio.

Rick and Georgie kept looking at each other. Both seemed to be less tense now. Hearing the voices of their friends had seemed to help a little.

What _didn't_ help was the sound of incessant gunfire in the distance, coming from the direction of Alexandria.

The couple turned their heads toward it and tensed back up like clockwork. When Georgie looked to Rick, she saw he was already bringing the walkie-talkie back up to his lips.

"There's gunfire coming from back home. We gotta sit with it and hope they can handle it. I think they can. They _have_ to," he spoke. "We keep going forward for them. Can't turn back 'cause we're afraid."

Rick eyed Georgie, and she nodded in agreement.

"_We ain't afraid,"_ Abraham insisted over the radio.

"This is for them. Going back now before it's done, that'd be for us," Rick persisted. Sitting back and looking out the windows, Rick took in a breath and nodded, mostly to himself, as if he was convincing himself of what he was saying to the others. "The herd has to be almost here."

Pulling the visor down above him, Rick revealed some tissues that were tucked away there. He took two or three, maybe four, of them and pressed them into the palm of his left hand where his cut was to help sop up the blood.

"Hey, I said I'd do that," Georgie remarked, getting up with effort, considering how achy her legs still felt from all that running. "Let me go see if there's any bandages hidden away in a First Aid kit somewhere."

"Yeah, alright. Thanks."

As she sauntered toward the back of the RV, she opened the cupboards above the kitchen area but saw nothing other than plates and cups and some canned goods from previous runs the RV had been taken on. She checked the bathroom next, holding open the door and looking around.

"You know, what Abraham just said," she spoke. "Of course _he_ isn't scared. The Boogie Man checks under _his_ bed at night for _Abraham_."

Rick smirked a little at that. "I'm sure he does," he replied.

Bringing the walkie-talkie up to his lips, he paused for a moment, wanting to say something else to his friends who were listening. He was interrupted, however, when the RV slammed open and someone immediately opened fire at him. Instinctively, Rick dove into the passenger seat to avoid getting struck while Georgie, startled, ducked backward into the bedroom of the RV. She patted herself down and realized she didn't have a gun on her. She'd had a Beretta tucked into the back of her pants earlier, but when she took that tumble in the woods it must've fallen out and gotten covered by leaves because she never saw it when she picked her knife back up. There were the guns in the satchel though. The only problem was the satchel was in the front of the RV, which didn't help her to help Rick.

She was a sitting duck, with only her knife and a prayer.

Jumping up from the passenger seat, Rick threw himself at the gunman, body slamming him to the floor. As he struggled to choke the guy, Rick was pulled off by a second man who had stepped up into the RV. Rick, did get a single kick out to the guy's face. What good it did was questionable, as both attackers seemed pretty resilient.

As Rick managed to toss the second man back off him, he whipped around with his Colt drawn and fired a single shot into the man's head. Turning back around toward the gunman, he prepared to fire a shot into his head as well, but found Georgie crouched down, pulling her hunting knife from the man's eye socket.

Georgie sat back and looked up at him with a nod, and he gave her a nod in return.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Are _you_? Did you get hit?"

"No," Rick shook his head. "I'm okay."

"Good."

Stepping over the gunman's body, Rick holstered his gun and extended his hand to Georgie to help her up to her feet. "Thank you."

"For what?" Georgie furrowed her brow, quite uncertain on what he was talking about.

"For having my back," he replied, gesturing down at the gunman.

She smirked in response. "You'd do the same."

"I would. In a heartbeat," he nodded.

Staring him in the eye, a wave of calm enveloped her. "I don't know if this is the right moment, but you need to kiss me because this day is getting more and more fucked up and just in case we don't get another moment, we need to take it now."

"Like you gotta ask," Rick said in all seriousness.

Leaning forward, he placed his right hand against her waist and gripped the material of her shirt. Pulling her closer toward him, he pressed his lips fully upon hers. Without hesitation, she slid the hand that wasn't still holding her knife up his chest and clung to his shirt as she reciprocated the kiss. The softness and yet hunger in which he kissed allowed them both to forget their predicament for a few seconds.

And that's all it was, really; a few seconds. But it felt like a lifetime, which is exactly why they needed that moment. It was like a coach calling for a timeout during a really important football game to get his players' heads straight.

When their lips parted from each other, Rick let his head linger for moment, rubbing his forehead against her like a cat brushing against its owner's leg to show love and affection.

Without a word, Rick stepped back from her and returned toward the front of the vehicle, but Georgie was right behind him as she stepped over the gunman's body. As he began digging through the second attacker's pockets, Georgie looked at the face of the gunman and took notice of the W engraved into his forehead.

"Rick, he has one of those W's on his head, like the ones Daryl and Morgan talked about." When Rick didn't respond, she repeated his name. "Rick."

Turning toward him, she saw he was holding a jar of baby food in his hand and Georgie blanched slightly; the fears she had rattled off shortly before suddenly feeling as if they were coming to life.

Why would these men have baby food? Did they come from Alexandria? Were they responsible for the horn and the gunfire she and Rick had heard? Did they harm their people back home? Were the kids okay? Were they alive?

"Oh god," she muttered under her breath as Rick narrowed his eyes and peered out the driver's side window.

Turning toward her, he held a finger to his hips to silence her. Quietly he passed her a gun from the satchel and then gestured toward the side mirror outside, at three unfriendly types coming up along the side of the RV. Picking up his assault rifle, Rick began to fire along the wall; emptying his magazine into the approaching trio.

Georgie, however, didn't fire a single shot. Not because she was scared or couldn't, but because she didn't need to. Rick had it more than covered. No one would survive his barrage of bullets.

Setting the rifle down, Rick pulled the second attacker away from the passenger seat and dragged him over to lay on top of his dead buddy. He gestured for Georgie to take a seat, which she did without hesitation, as he also sat back down in the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition.

Except the engine wasn't turning over.

It just kept sputtering with each attempt Rick made.

Georgie watched him as he started to shake his head from side to side. His unwavering, hard as nails exterior began to crack, revealing the man was just a scared boy underneath. Tears stung his eyes as he muttered 'no' over and over and slammed his fist on the dashboard to no avail.

Her heartbeat racing once again, Georgie realized what this meant for them.

If they couldn't get the RV started, they couldn't lead away the second herd that was headed their way which, in turn, would head toward Alexandria.

"Keep trying," she muttered, reiterating her earlier statement.

"It's not working."

"Just keep trying. We gotta keep trying, right?"

As Rick turned to look at her, the sound of snarling and groaning began to fill the air. They both focused their attention toward the outside; Georgie out the window at her side and Rick toward the open RV door. The shambling figures of walkers were beginning to appear from out of the trees.

"Fuck," Georgie cursed. She looked back at Rick who seemed lost in thought. "Rick, we need to run." When he didn't respond and just stared out the open door, she frowned and reached her hand out to give him a light slap to the face, which seemed to do the trick. "We need to run."

Letting his eyes focus on her instead, Rick nodded. "Y-yeah, sorry."

In a flurry of motion, Rick grabbed up the satchel and threw it around his body again, and then did the same with his assault rifle. Georgie removed a second gun from the satchel to make sure she had a spare if the one he'd given her ran out of bullets. Both stood up and stepped over toward the door and looked at each other.

"On three?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he replied. "One."

"Two."

"Three," they both said at the same time, as he darted out first and began to shove some of the undead away to give her a wider berth to get by.

They each began using their knives to jab the walkers in the head, but mostly chose to just kick them back a few feet and buy themselves some time to get a head start, even if it wasn't much of one. Taking her by the hand, Rick gripped tight and ran with her until they put about thirty feet between them and the dead. He then let go of her hand and the pair of them beat pavement harder than before.

The threat was even realer now, and more imminent. There would be no stopping this half of the herd from reaching Alexandria. They just needed to get home where it would be safer. At least they would be with their children and friends.

* * *

For nearly a half hour, they ran; barely taking even seconds to stop and catch their breath.

Like a cliché, Georgie lost her footing when she stepped the wrong way on some loose gravel, sending her downward onto her hands and knees. Her knees had been protected by her jeans but her palms, which helped break her fall, skidded across the asphalt and scraped her skin pretty badly. She cried out in pain, which was to be expected, and stumbled to get back up as she mentally kicked herself for her making such a klutz move at such an inopportune movement. It didn't even matter that it was something she couldn't have prevented or not. She hated herself a little bit for it either way.

Fortunately, Rick was there for her, grabbing her roughly by the arm and bringing her back up to her feet, and then they were both off again without breaking their stride; as is if her fall hadn't happened.

"My lungs…are on…fire…" Georgie panted.

"Mine, too," he agreed, gritting through the searing pain in his chest. "We gotta…just keep going. Keep going…"

The road curved, their pace was slowing and the walkers were seriously gaining on them, but they were in the final stretch now. They could see the gates to Alexandria a quarter mile up ahead and it was enough for their adrenaline to give them an extra boost. The majority of the herd was directly behind then, but many others were going through the trees and would come out on the other sides of the walled community. That was something Rick and Georgie couldn't concern themselves with at the moment. They had to get home, inside those walls.

"OPEN THE GATE!" Rick shouted. "OPEN THE GATE! OPEN THE GATE _NOW_!"

Metal clanking was a wonderful sound for Rick and Georgie as they gate was rolled open, revealing Michonne first, then Maggie, and Tobin not far behind. As the pair got nearer, a walker stepped directly in front of Rick, so he shoved it away, but in his exhaustion he tumbled down to the ground. Georgie, however, returned the favor by yanking him upward as they hobbled forward as fast as they could despite their legs feeling ready to completely give out underneath them.

Dodging a few more walkers, their sprint to the gate was mere feet and as soon as they were inside, they fell forward and dropped against the wall perpendicular to the gate. They stared upward at the walkers lashing out, their arms shoved through the metal bars, snarling and gnashing their rotten teeth like animals in the wild. Georgie slumped against Rick's chest and he threw an arm around her, pressing his lips to her forehead as they struggled to regain their breath and a normal heartbeat.

As they turned their attention away from Michonne dragging the secondary gate closed, the couple found themselves staring up at Deanna who was standing there dumbfounded; with the same look of shock she'd had immediately following her husband's death.

Maggie crouched down in front of them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, looking them in the eye with concern. "Ya'll alright? D'you run this entire way?"

Rick went to speak, but nothing came out. His lungs and throat still felt like they were on fire and his mouth was too dry. All he could do was hold up a finger to indicate she hold on a minute while he took some deep breaths to collect himself.

"Someone get them some water," Maggie called out over her shoulder.

"What happened? Why is the herd here?" Tobin wondered.

"Doesn't really matter how, does it?" Michonne questioned rhetorically, eyeing the slightly older man. "They're here. We'll deal with it accordingly."

"Let's get 'em to the Infirmary," Maggie suggested. "Looks like they got some nasty cuts and scrapes that should get cleaned up." Focusing on the couple, she offered a rueful smile. "We'll get you some water and food. Then rest for a bit."

Rick shook his head. "No," he croaked. "I gotta—"

"You're gonna drop dead from exhaustion," Maggie cut him off. "I say yes."

"They're not going anywhere," Georgie added in between a deep breath. "Neither are we." She lifted a finger and made a swirling motion with it. "They're gonna surround us."

"Come on," Michonne muttered, grabbing Rick's arm and helping up to his feet while Tobin did the same for Georgie. "We'll discuss this all soon."

Rick caved and nodded. "Alright."

As he and Georgie were escorted toward the Infirmary, they both noticed bodies being piled beside each other; those of their fellow Alexandrians, and those of a few unknowns. There was blood splatter here and there on the pavement and plenty of Alexandrians were gathering around to help clean up or just stare around in a similar state of shock to that of Deanna.

"I'm fine. I can walk," she said to Tobin, shrugging him off and then watching as he nodded and headed back toward the gate. "What happened here?" Georgie inquired, anxiously. "The kids—"

"The kids are fine," Maggie assured without missing a beat. "They're safe at home. Carl protected them." She cast an eye toward Rick. "You should be proud of him."

Rick nodded. "I am. I always am."

"What happened here?" Georgie repeated. "Where did that truck outside the wall come from? Why are there so many dead people?"

"We were attacked by these people with W's on their foreheads. We don't know how they got in. They had no guns; just knives, machetes, axes. They were just…slaughtering people without rhyme or reason," Maggie explained grimly as they rounded the pond. "It's like it was some sort of game to them. As if it was for fun."

"Yeah," Rick muttered, looking at Georgie. "We, uh, encountered two of 'em."

As they were brought toward the front entrance to the Infirmary, Carl came running up the street from the main house. "Dad! Dad!"

Rick whipped around and stopped from heading inside until his son caught up. When the teenager reached them, he threw his arms around his father's middle and the duo embraced.

"I heard what you did," Rick commented. "How you protected Tristan and Judy. I'm proud of you."

"I just did what you would do." Carl shrugged the compliment off as if it were nothing in a very teen sort of way. "I had Enid with me to help. But, she, uh…she left."

"Did she go home?"

Carl shook his head. "No, I think she went over the walls." The younger Grimes eyed his father. "Dad, I wanna go find her."

Rick shook his head adamantly. "There's no going outside these walls right now. Half the herd broke off. They were drawn away from by that horn."

"They're at the walls now," Georgie added. "If Enid got out, you just gotta hope she made it somewhere safe."

"I can't just sit around if she's out there by herself."

"And you can't go out _there_," Rick stressed. "Don't make me take back saying how proud I am."

Carl shoulders slumped. "Fine," he grumbled, though he clearly wasn't.

"Go home, stay with Tristan and Judy. We'll be back there soon enough. Alright?"

"Yeah, okay," Carl nodded obediently. He looked between his father and then Georgie. "I'm glad you made it back safe."

Georgie smiled and brushed some of the teen's hair off his face. "We're glad you kids are safe, too," she replied.

As the boy turned and wandered back down the road, Maggie finally ushered Rick and Georgie inside of the Infirmary, where there was blood on the floor under one of the operating beds and where Scott, an Alexandrian, lay unconscious in the same bed Tara had been occupying earlier in the week.

"What happened to him?" Georgie wondered with concern whereas Rick didn't seem too fazed by it as he sauntered over to a stool at the kitchen island and sat down.

"Friendly fire," Michonne replied.

As Georgie walked over and sank down into the more comfortable chair near the bed, she felt instant relief. She and Rick stared at each other and shared a sad smile.

This day had not gone worked out the way they'd wanted it, but at least they were alive, and their children were alive and their—

"Where's Glenn?" Rick asked. "He said to look for fire. I never saw it. He didn't reply on the walkie, but then again neither did Tobin and yet Tobin's here."

Maggie and Michonne shared a look.

"What?" Rick pressed. "Is Glenn—is he—"

Michonne shrugged but also shook her head. "I just got done telling Maggie before you two arrived," she remarked. "We made it to a town, but it got overrun. Glenn split off with Nicholas. He had an idea that if he lit a fire, it would stop the walkers from coming here, that it would keep them distracted. I wanted to go in his place, but he insisted he had to do it. The fire never got lit and we had to keep going. Glenn said if he got stuck, he would find a way to send us a signal. What kind of signal, though, I don't know."

Rick nodded and looked to Maggie, reaching out a hand and grabbing hold of hers. "Glenn's a fighter. He'll pull through. We can't give up hope on him."

"I'm not," Maggie insisted, although the sadness in her eyes wasn't entirely convincing.

Georgie sat forward, frowning. She couldn't imagine the anxiety Maggie was feeling right now. She'd lost her father and sister mere weeks apart, and now, a month later, there was a chance she'd lost her husband.

This world they lived in was crueler than usual sometimes.

The sound of footsteps on stairs alerted all four of them, and then a somewhat chunky woman with glasses and dark blonde hair in a ponytail entered the room with a large book in her hands. When she saw all the people standing or sitting there she seemed to jump out of her skin, and then she covered it up with a nervous laugh.

"Oh, hey. People. Hi." She gave an awkward wave. "I haven't met most of you, because I'm pretty much a hermit. Not big on the whole social function thing so I didn't get to meet you at Deanna's party last week."

Georgie narrowed her gaze. "Who are you?"

"I'm Denise. Technically I'm the new doctor since Jake's gone. I say 'technically' because I was in med school to become a surgeon but I have issues with anxiety, so I became a psychiatrist instead. So, you know, if you ever wanna talk about your childhood traumas, I'm your girl. I'm just not…I'm all this place has now, so I'm trying."

"Hey, you're doing more than any of us could," Michonne assured.

Denise smiled appreciatively. "It's nice of you to say. I wish I could believe it." She pointed at Rick's hand when she noticed the tissue soaked with blood in his palm. "Do you want me to look at that? I mean, I know I didn't exactly just talk myself up, but I can most definitely manage stitches and a Band-Aid."

"Whose blood is all that?" Georgie wondered, pointing at the floor. She hadn't heard anything about Carol and was getting worried again.

"Holly," Denise replied. "One of those wolf people sliced her abdomen open. I tried to stop the bleeding and operate, but it was pointless. She was beyond saving. She just bled…a lot."

Georgie frowned again. She remembered something about Noah liking Holly or vice versa. It was almost bittersweet that the two of them were gone, and hopefully to a better place. If heaven existed, she hoped they were there with her daughter and everyone else they'd loved and lost.

"Michonne's right," Georgie commented. "You did more than any of us could've done. You gave her a fighting chance."

Denise caught Georgie's eyes and shrugged. "I'm sorry about Jake, by the way. I know he was your husband. He talked about you a lot, before any of you arrived here. I didn't know what he was really like, though. The things I heard he'd done before Alexandria, and what he did to you and then to Reg. I'm sorry."

Georgie looked over at Rick and then shrugged as well. "He stopped being my husband long ago," she sighed, turning her gaze down to her sore, scraped palms. "He's just the man who was the father of my kids that let this world change him for the worse."

"Like those wolf people," Denise muttered, setting her book down and grabbing the items she needed to clean and tend to Rick's cut. "I hope the ones that got away don't come back."

"They ain't getting in here," Rick remarked. He didn't go into why. He simply set his left arm on the island and waited for Denise to take care of his hand.

* * *

A half hour later, Rick had stitches in his palm, which had been lathered with ointment to assist in the healing process and a gauze bandage wrapped around his hand. Georgie's palms had been cleaned, and ointment and gauze bandages applied to her hands as well. Rick had fixed his shirt so he didn't look too disheveled anymore and the pair left the Infirmary together. Maggie and Michonne had already dispersed to head to the wall near the front gate where everyone else seemed to be gathering. Rick and Georgie had to take care of something that seemed a little more important to them at the moment.

Hand in hand they walked down the road to the main house, trying to ignored the large puddle of blood in the grass across the street of the house where Mrs. Neudermeyer lived. They'd learned she was one of the unlucky ones who had been brutally slain by a Wolf.

As they ascended the stairs to their house, Rick gave Georgie's hand a gentle squeeze. The door was closed and they paused just outside it for a moment before Rick turned the knob and pushed it open. He let Georgie in first, and she was immediately greeted by Tristan who had jumped up from the dining table where he was eating a bowl of something.

"Mommy!" he cried happily, throwing his arms around her waist.

Georgie responded by crouching down and hosting him up into her arms. She didn't care that how sore and tired her body was, or that he was nine years old. She was going to hold her son in her arms as tightly as she could as if he was a toddler. "Hi, honey," she replied, planting a series of kisses on his cheek and just reveling in his presence. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Carl killed a bad gay. I watched him from the window upstairs. He shot him in the head."

Carl, who was sitting at the dining table as well with Judith in his lap, frowned sheepishly. Georgie could tell he was sorry her son had to see it, but she also knew it was just something that was hard to avoid these days. She knew he had witnessed so much worse, but within these walls she wished he didn't have to witness any more of it.

"Carl did a good thing," she assured, letting him slide down her. "He kept you and Judith safe. You know that, right?"

Tristan nodded again. "Just like Rick keeps you safe."

Rick smirked at that. "Well, I try my best."

Walking up to his son and daughter, he gestured for Carl to pass Judith to him. As soon as his little girl was in his arms, he held her close and closed his eyes happily for a moment at the way she rested her head down upon his chest in comfort. Georgie joined him and rubbed a hand down the girl's back and smiled when Judith lifted her head, turned toward her and reached her little chubby hand out.

Georgie knew what she wanted and gave it to her.

Wrapping her tiny hand around Georgie's index finger, Judith squeezed and then dropped her head back down against her father's chest while not releasing her grip. Rick and Georgie looked at each other and smirked.

They were lucky, indeed.

"Where's Carol?" Rick asked his son.

"She went upstairs to clean up, I think."

Rick nodded and looked from Carl back to Georgie with a nod of his head. Georgie ushered her own son to finish up eating whatever was in his bowl — one of Carol's casseroles, from the looks of it — and then she headed back outside onto the porch with Rick and Judith. All the while, Judith managed to not break her grasp on Georgie's finger.

Standing quietly together on the porch, they looked up the street, taking note of some damage to neighboring properties, the occasional blood splatter and the Alexandrians working alongside their people as well to cart away the dead to be buried in the community's little cemetery.

As they listened to the sounds around them, despite how thankful they were for their safety and their kids' safety and that none of their friends that remained inside the wall had been among the casualties, they weren't about to count their chickens before they hatched. There was still the threat outside the walls. They didn't even have to strain to hear it.

The herd was in fact surrounding them.

They could tell by the sound of banging on the metal panels and the snarling that accompanied.

Chewing the inside of his bottom lip, Rick turned and looked at Georgie, and she looked back.

"We'll get through this," he muttered. "We have to."

Georgie sighed, brushing her thumb over Judith's little knuckles. "I hope so."


	28. Focus On Life

_"__The best thing to hold onto in life is each other." _— Audrey Hepburn

* * *

When Carol came back downstairs, Rick and Georgie had explained everything to her that had happened, not sure how much Michonne might have filled her in on, if at all, and in turn she explained to them what she had witnessed the Wolves to and what she had done. During that part, they had all made sure Tristan was out of earshot as not to upset him. It had been a very trying couple of weeks for the boy. The most normalcy they could afford him, they would. Which is why they had him stay home, watching a Disney movie on the living room TV while Judith played in her playpen while the adults went to address the growing crowd of survivors near the gate.

Carol had gone ahead with Carl, who wanted to be part of the unofficial meeting alongside everyone else. As a teenager who had seen and done all the things he'd seen and done in the last two years of the apocalypse, he'd earned his place with the actual adults. After making sure Tristan and Judith were okay together, and telling him to take Judith and hide with her in an upstairs closet if something went wrong, Rick and Georgie went off together.

Georgie walked a bit slower, to the right of Rick and behind him by only a couple of paces, as they headed toward the gate. Despite the severity of Alexandria's situation and the metaphoric dark cloud hanging over all their heads, she found some joy and amusement in watching Rick walk. He didn't exactly have a small ass, but what he did have was hard to distinguish from how the back of his worn, black jeans sagged. Part of it she attributed to his constant wearing of the gun belt and the multiple weapons that were holstered or hanging off it at any given moment. Part of it also had to do with the fact that he'd been wearing those jeans, and probably no other pair, since the beginning of the end. Despite their not being anything to actually look at from behind, she knew what his ass looked like _out_ of those jeans and that was enough for her. Also, the way he walked; that bowlegged saunter of his that made her weak in the knees.

Admittedly though, he looked better walking _toward_ her like that rather than _away_ from her.

Several people were standing close to the metal panels, checking how secure they really were with the support beams that had been added to where the truck had hit. It had been a suggestion of Tobin's, who had come to the main house while Rick and Georgie were talking with Carol and just being with their kids for a while. It was a suggestion that Tobin had obviously chosen to see Rick about rather than Deanna, to which Rick insisted it should be taken care of, and as a construction crew member, and as former construction crew leader before he passed the torch to the more capable Abraham, Tobin oversaw the beams going up. Everyone else seemed to stand back a ways, just staring at the wall as if they were witnessing a tragic car wreck they could've somehow prevented. They were shocked and horrified and still appeared somewhat ambivalent to it all. Rick and Georgie's people were obviously handling it all better and didn't seem too perturbed other than by the recent losses and the unknown fates of their friends away from Alexandria.

"You can hear it. Some of you saw it," Rick spoke, as he and Georgie got close enough to everyone gathered. He walked right in among them all, to stand among them, and make sure they could all see him and vice versa. "They got back here, half of them; still enough to surround us twenty deep. Look, I know you're scared. You haven't seen anything like this. You haven't _been_ through anything like this. But we're safe for now. The panel the truck hit seems intact. We reinforced it just in case. Either way, the wall's gonna hold together. Can _you_?" He paced around, trying to focus on different people and see how they were taking in what he was saying. "The others, they're gonna be back."

"They're gonna be back," Rosita repeated in agreement.

Rick looked at her and nodded in a silent thank you for the support she was showing to what he was telling everyone. "Daryl, Abraham, Sasha; they have vehicles. They're gonna lead 'em away, just like the others. And Glenn and Nicholas are gonna walk back through the front gate after," he remarked, pointing ahead of him, but focusing on Maggie when he said it, who clearly appreciated him saying it. "They know what they're doing, and we know what we need to do. We keep noise to a minimum. Pull our blinds at night. Even better: keep the lights out. We'll try to make this place as quiet as a graveyard, see if they move on."

"This place _is_ a graveyard," Francine remarked.

Georgie, with her arms folded across her chest, shot a look over toward the shorthaired brunette. She saw the way Rick nodded, acknowledging her comment, but it didn't sit well with Georgie. She rolled her eyes slightly and noticed Carol staring back at her and it was as if both women were sharing the same thought process about these Alexandrians still not being able to fully grasp the way the world was now and how terrible things of this magnitude were sadly just what happened these days. The sooner they understood and accepted it, the better off they would all be. Until then, they would wind up as nothing more than anyone with a red shirt in an episode of the original series of _Star Trek_.

"The quarry broke open and those walkers were heading this way. _All_ of them," Aaron stated, stepping forward to say his piece. "The plan that _Rick_ put into place _stopped_ that from happening. He got _half_ of them away.

Georgie could feel the shift in emotions among both Alexandrians and her own people. Everyone had removed their attention away from Aaron for a moment to look to Rick; the Alexandrians with subtle appreciation, and "the family" with pride. The latter knew how Rick was as a leader and understood all he had done for them, how hard he fought to keep them safe, and how fiercely he loved and cared for them all. They knew Rick and they just wanted the Alexandrians to know him the way they did, and to stop second guessing him at every turn.

"I was out there recruiting with Daryl," Aaron continued. "I wanted to try to get into a cannery and scavenge, and Daryl wanted to keep looking for people. We did what _I_ wanted and we wound up in a trap set by those people. And I lost my pack. They must've followed our tracks. Those people who attacked us they found their way back here because of me."

Crowd sentiment shifted again. Suddenly the Alexandrians reacted with disappointment in Aaron as if he had personally invited the Wolves to Alexandria and allowed them to slaughter everyone with open arms. Georgie was sure that if she rolled her eyes any harder at how these people, her eyes would just pop right out of her head.

"All of you have been living in a dream world, and I'm not saying that to sound harsh, but it's a harsh world. No matter what you try and tell yourselves, you haven't been able to grasp that until recent, until _today_. Actually, I'm not entirely convinced you really have," Georgie spoke up. She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips with her arms akimbo. Taking a step forward, she turned so that she could back up closer toward the wall and face out. Licking her lips, she carried on. "This community has been so cut off from the way the world is, it's been like a dream; a pleasant dream where you've been able to live normal lives, and that's great. It's just not _practical_ anymore. Aaron brought my group here, Deanna gave us jobs and ya'll welcomed us with open arms and we appreciate that. But you were asleep, in your dream world, and we _had_ to wake you up, because you can't sleep and pretend the real world doesn't exist. It's out there and it's terrible and it's _not_ going away. You gotta face it, and accept it." Georgie glanced over at Maggie, then Rosita and then focused on Rick, who each nodded in agreement in what she was saying. "No one here wanted the attack that happened today to have happened, but Rick's told you countless times already that people like that were out there. It's not Aaron's fault, it's not Rick's. It's no one here's fault that it happened. You're armed now, but you're not prepared, and you need to be for _anything_ that can and _will_ happen." She looked over her shoulder at the metal panel behind her and slowly back at everyone else. "The world's not going away, and neither are we, because we're gonna fight. We're gonna fight to survive with all we got."

As Georgie finished her speech, Deanna began to walk away and, for a moment, Georgie wondered if it had something to do with what she'd just said. However, judging by how staccato the older woman walked and how catatonic she seemed, Georgie had a feeling Deanna was still just processing her grief and the trauma of everything that had been taking place. She wasn't processing it well, though, but hopefully she would snap out of it soon enough. She was supposed to be Alexandria's leader, even if, with Rick's dominant role in the community, she was more of a figurehead now.

"There'll be more to talk about," Rick remarked, eyeing Morgan for a moment as Morgan looked back at him with a slight nod.

"Deanna?" Tobin called out, but she didn't respond and she didn't stop walking away. Everyone else turned around to watch her leave as well. "_Deanna_!"

Rick looked after, biting down on his bottom lip for half a second, first appearing concerned, and then somewhat aggravated. Georgie narrowed her gaze at him, but he didn't seem to notice she was looking at him. As he began to walk away, more than likely to head back home, Georgie wasn't far behind. Everyone, in fact, began to more or less disperse at that point.

Before she could completely catch up with Rick, Georgie felt a hand on her wrist. Turning around, she saw it was Carol.

"It was good what you said," she commented, lowering her voice. "These people will listen to Rick say the same thing over and over, but it's like they're not hearing him or they don't want to. Hearing it in different ways from different people will help, I think. Or, at least I hope it will, but I won't hold my breath on that."

Georgie nodded, and then smirked slightly. "I know what you told us you did when the attack happened. But, from what Maggie mentioned to us in the Infirmary, you were like a ninja; popping up all over the place, kicking ass and taking names."

A smiled knowingly. "None of the others really know accept our group and Olivia. I'm not sure whether or not I should continue with this whole demure housewife shtick or if I should just drop it."

"Whatever you choose to do, I'll back you on," Georgie replied. "I know what a master of disguise you are. I was there by your side at Terminus, remember? Remember the blood and guts we wiped on ourselves? Yeah, that was fun."

Carol chuckled and gave Georgie a small, but playful shove. "The good ol' days when our friendship was raw and young; right before I introduced you to Rick. And you're welcome, by the way," she quipped with a teasing wink.

"Thank you, I guess," Georgie smiled.

Both women looked up the main road along the pond, at Rick walking away and Carl following not far behind. Their respective amused expressions simultaneously faded and the weight of everything that had happened and that was still happening sank back in.

"Daryl's okay out there, right?" Carol wondered. "I mean, it's not as many walkers to lead away now, so it shouldn't take as long for him, Sasha and Abraham to get back."

Georgie turned and looked at Carol with a nod. "Daryl's gonna be just fine," she insisted, placing a hand on Carol's shoulder. "We all are."

* * *

Back at the house, a short while later, Rick was standing in the kitchen with the small of his back pressed against the sink. He was holding a cup of coffee with his right hand while his left hand was stretched out at his side, holding onto the edge of the counter beside the sink. Staring down into the dark brown liquid with subtle tendrils of steam billowing upward, he frowned. The coffee was what was left in the pot from the day before. No one had bother making a fresh pot that morning because all focus had been on getting to the quarry and what the day's activities were supposed to include, not on sitting around to enjoy a cup of Joe. The coffee wasn't great, by any means, but adding some creamer helped. Then again, Rick had no business being picking about what he had to eat or drink anymore; not when he and his family had gone days without something as basic, yet essential, as water and food.

Day old coffee was a treat.

Looking up from the mug, he stared across the kitchen toward the living room where Georgie was cuddling with Tristan, who had his legs draped over her lap as he curled into her side; her arms wrapped protectively and loving around his shoulders. The movie he had been watching had not been finished. When they returned to the house, they returned to find the movie had been turned off and Tristan was holding Judith in his arms. He had been rocking her from side to side, as if they were dancing.

Rick and Carl had come back first. Tristan had been startled and looked almost guilty, as if he shouldn't have even gone near Judith. His worries were soothed by Rick and Carl both smiling kindly at him and Carl offering to put a CD into the stereo.

That's when Tristan shook his head quite adamantly and held Judith tighter in his arms and pressed his cheek to hers. Rick instantly took notice of the change in the nine-year-old. He attempted to ask the boy if he was okay. The way the boy seemed so possessive of Judith felt a bit concerning, and not because he worried about his daughter's safety. Rick was worried about the boy, so he gave him space and silently gestured for Carl to do the same. Rick just stood back and watched as Tristan closed his eyes and turned away from the father and son duo that were mere feet away, and resumed his gentle swaying with Judith.

Carl looked up to his father, who looked back at his son and both shrugged. They didn't really know what to make of it.

Carl, the protective brother that he was, subtly went over to take a seat at the couch and pretended to be interested with the CD he had picked up before Tristan declined the idea. It was a rouse so he could keep a safe eye on his sister, which made Rick swell with pride. He knew in that instant that if something were to ever happen to him and any of the other adults, if it was just Carl and Judith alone together in the world, his son would take extremely good care of his sister, without hesitation.

Lori would be so proud, too.

That thought popping into his head made Rick sad. He absentmindedly began twirling his wedding ring around his finger, the same he did after Jake had come over to offer him a beer and brought up Rick losing his wife.

Rick didn't think too much on Lori anymore, but when he did, he seemed to touch his ring, as if it was the only way to remember she existed. He used to do it was a way of silently communicating with her when he wished he had her advice on what he should be doing with their kids or when he longed to hear her voice again.

However, it was different for him now.

He loved Lori, still did and always would, but it was akin to holding a flower that had once been so bright and beautiful but had long since withered. If he wanted to preserve it, for memory's sake, he would have to put it away. Playing with dead flowers would make them crumble and fall apart.

Georgie walked through the door then with Carol right behind her. Carol moved toward the sink to putter, while Georgie looked up at Rick with a smile as he looked back at her.

He smiled back.

Nothing more could come from playing with a dead flower.

He would always love how sweet it smelled once upon a time and how beautiful it had been to look at, but he had a vibrant rose now.

_Stop focusing on death. Focus on life_, his mind was pestering him with. _You don't need the ring anymore._

"You okay?" Georgie asked him, placing a hand to his left elbow.

Rick nodded and let his continued smile reassure her. "Yeah, I am."

It was mere seconds after he replied that Tristan turned back around and they could all see his face. He had tears streaming down his face and sobs began to hiccup out from the depths of his throats. Georgie's face immediately changed from contentment to worry as she rushed over to her son. Rick walked up as well and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder as Georgie pulled Judith away. Carl was on his feet straight away, offering to take his sister, who seemed adorably confused in regard to Tristan's crying. Kneeling down in front of her son, Georgie looked up at him and placed her hands on either side of his face and knitted her brow together.

"Honey, what's wrong? You can tell me whatever it is," she insisted in a soothing voice.

Rick cast a glance over to Carl and gestured with a nod of his head for him to take Judith upstairs to give Tristan some privacy to open up to his mother. Carol seemed to catch the drift as well, whether or not Rick actually wanted her to do the same or not. She quickly made herself scarce, following brother and sister upstairs to "putter" elsewhere.

Rick remained though. He felt he should.

He was committed to Georgie now, which meant he was committed to her son as a parent should be. Unless she asked him otherwise, he would stay downstairs with them.

"Tristan, honey, please tell me," Georgie urged, watching her son's face go a shade of pink as he got worked up, while both his chin and bottom lip quivered. "Are you still upset about your dad? I know it's hard. He did bad things, but he was still a good dad and I know you miss him."

Tristan suddenly shook his head and lifted his hand to wipe his tears. "No."

"No?" Georgie was confused. "You don't miss your dad?"

"I miss him, but that's not why I'm sad."

Rick cocked his head to the side and pulled a chair away from the dining table. Sitting down on it, he leaned forward and looked directly at the boy who was pretty much his stepson. "What is it then?"

Tristan looked at Rick, sucked in a few sobs, and then at his mom. He lifted a hand and grabbed at her hair, twirling a ginger lock around his index finger and pouted. "I miss my sister. I miss Avery," the boy admitted. "I don't want her to be dead anymore. I didn't get to say goodbye to her."

Georgie's own eyes began to water; her heart breaking for how strongly she didn't realize her son was feeling in his grief for his sister. Even Rick couldn't help the tears that stung his own eyes. He couldn't imagine how this world felt for a boy his age; to have thought he lost his entire family, and then gone through this world alone, even if he'd had strangers caring for him. How frightening it had to have been, and just when he thought he had his family back, he discovered his sister was killed and his father had basically become a monster; the same monster responsible for the death of his friends and for hurting his mother.

Now Rick was standing in the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee, looking on as Georgie cuddled with her son after she had assured him, as she had before, that his sister Avery was in heaven now and she was happy that he was alive and well. She assured him that even though things were sometimes sad and hard, there was plenty of good, too, in the world for him. He had her. He had Rick. He even had a brother in Carl, something he'd never had before, and he had Judith now as a new little sister. She told Tristan that she knew it wouldn't be the same, but it was a good thing. They had to cherish all the good things and focus on the good things. It was okay to remember the people they loved and lost, and cherish them too, but they couldn't dote on those memories all the time. It would keep them from living life, which was more important.

They had to keep going forward, not backward.

Rick studied the way Georgie's ginger locks seemed the glow as the evening sun found its way through the living room window and bathed her in its light. He studied the way she held her son and hummed some old, familiar melody; the tune vibrating against his skin with her lips pressed to his forehead. He studied the way the world outside stopped existing with her and her son filling the gap in his own family unit. He didn't view Georgie as some spare part or replacement for Lori. She wasn't filling the hole left in his heart when Lori died. Georgie, as well as her son, simply made a place in his heart. It forced the hole left by Lori to shrink in order for her to fit in comfortably.

They helped him heal.

Rick looked back down into his day old cup of coffee and smiled, giving silent thanks for the good things in his life, in a world full of constant bad things.

* * *

The sun got lower in the sky, and Rick had gone to take a shift atop the wall.

Down below was a sea of walkers, twenty deep, just as he had stated earlier. They were snarling and growling in their hunger which would never cease. Their decayed bodies twisted and writhed against each other in a sort of orgy of death. The smell was nauseating but standing so much higher above them made it easy to get passed with the occasional breeze blowing by from behind Rick. Plenty of the walkers noticed Rick standing there and were trying in vain to reach for him; clawing at the walkers ahead of them in their relentless attempts or at the metal paneling of the wall if they were close enough to it.

Rick wasn't there to keep an eye on them, though. The wall was strong. It would hold. Keeping virtually still didn't seem to distract the walkers so much either. All he was there to do was look out for the others in case they returned. Or if there was some sort of sign in the distance.

He was wondering how exactly the others would get in when they returned.

_If they returned._

Rick winced at his own inner monologue.

He couldn't think like that.

He knew hoping his friends were alive and coming back didn't make them come back, but thinking they were dead and _never_ coming back didn't exactly do any good.

"Hey, dad?"

Rick turned and looked down the ladder, where he saw Carl standing at the bottom, staring up.

"Can I come up?"

Rick nodded and gestured for his son to join him. After Carl had finished his ascent and took his place beside him, Rick looked back toward the road leading to Alexandria. "Got something on your mind?"

Carl nodded. "I have a lot of things on my mind."

"Enid?" Rick smirked. He wasn't stupid. The way his son was concerned about the girl and from what he had managed to witness of his son's interaction with the girl, he knew Carl had, at least, a crush on her.

"Yeah, she's one of the things."

"I'm sure she's alright. I talked to Aaron about who she was just after we got here. I was wondering who her parents were, and he told me she came here alone. She'd shown up at the gate one day, eight months ago, covered in dirt and old blood. She'd been alone by herself for a long while after losing her parents. She survived in that world the same as us by sheer force of will. I'm sure she can do it again," Rick spoke, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "When we figure out a way to get those walkers away from the walls and can get safely outside, we try looking for her, okay? We will."

Carl looked up at his dad, squinting from the sun, and nodded once more. "Okay."

Narrowing his gaze, Rick gave Carl's shoulder a squeeze. "What else is on your mind?"

The teenager hesitated. "I…I don't think you'll like what I gotta say."

"Try me."

"Well," Carl stalled. "I don't think Tristan is okay."

Rick tilted his head slightly to the left and shrugged. "He's had a tough time. He's sad about Jake and his sister. He misses them," he assured. "He'll come 'round soon enough. He's got his mother and us, and our friends there for him."

Carl shook his head. "That's not really what I mean."

A ping of concern entered Rick's mind. He'd learned to trust his son's instincts about things. If something wasn't sitting right with Carl, then it didn't sit right with him, and vice versa. "Then what _do_ you mean?"

Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, Carl bit his bottom lip. He was trying to figure out exactly how to word what he wanted to say. "I think he was out there too long and saw too many bad things. I think the world out there changed him the way it changed Jake." Carl looked up at his father and saw the instant look of conflict on his face. "I'm not saying that's what's happened, but it's what I think."

"What makes you think that, though? There has to be a reason?" Rick prodded. "What reason could Tristan have given you to feel doubtful about him?"

"Remember back at the prison when all those walkers were always at the fence, just before the sickness came?"

Rick nodded in confirmation. "Yeah."

"You remember Lizzie, right?"

"I do."

"She used to name the walkers. She would play with them through the fence like they were regular people and not dead. She could function, but she wasn't functioning right. The way she saw the world was messed up." Carl frowned and peered downward at the plethora of walkers. "She wasn't right in the head. She might've been fine before the world we knew ended, but this world messed her up. I think this world's messed Tristan up."

Rick licked at his bottom lip and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "But what makes you think he's not alright up here?" he questioned, tapping the side of his head with his index finger. "There has to be a specific reason. Has he done or said anything concerning to you recently?"

Carl half shrugged, and half nodded. "Yeah, sort of."

"Tell me."

"The day after you went off on the people here, after you came home and you had me go next door with Tristan and Judith before the meeting that night…he said something that I didn't really thing much on at first. He asked me about what it was like out there," Carl said, gesturing toward the road, but indicating the outside world in general. "He asked if I knew how to shoot guns and if I ever had to kill people."

Furrowing his brow, Rick looked down at his hands for a moment and then back to his son. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I did know how to shoot, but I only ever shot my gun to protect myself or other people. Then, to make conversation, I asked him if he ever learned how to shoot when he was traveling with those people he'd been with."

"What did he say?"

"He said yes. He said Melissa, the woman who got him away from the house, had a gun. He had asked her if he could try using it, and she told him no, but gave him a knife instead to protect himself with." Carl shifted around, looking up at his dad. "He said it made him angry and he would watch her sleep sometimes. Then one night she caught him playing with the gun and she snatched it away and scolded him. He said he got angry at her and wished she'd died with everyone else in the house. He didn't say anything else about it after that because Rosita called us into the kitchen to have something to eat."

"Is there anything else he's said or done to make you think he's not alright?"

"He draws pictures. Some he gives to the others and they post them on the fridges. Normal pictures of cars and people smiling and stuff like that. But there are other pictures I walked in on him drawing that he hides away. I went snooping the other day and found them. He draws walkers eating people and there's a picture of himself holding a gun shooting Georgie in the face. He even drew her brain on the ground and a walker eating it."

Rick's stomach twisted in knots at this unsettling information. "Well, maybe it's just his way of venting. It doesn't actually mean he wants to shoot his mother in the head and kill her." At least, that's what Rick hoped. Tristan was such a sweet, quiet boy. How could there be an ounce of malice in him? "He's been through a lot. He's just trying to process it the best way his nine-year-old mind can."

Carl shook his head, unconvinced. "Today he told me he killed Melissa. He said when those walkers were approaching him and her, he took her gun to protect them because she had still been asleep but he'd been awake. I know she got bit at some point and told Tristan to run away and hide somewhere or whatever. That's what you told me that he said. But he told me he didn't run away because she told him to. He said the walkers came, and he took her gun, but instead of shooting at them, he pointed it at her head and pulled shot her in the chest. He said he watched her bleed and she woke screaming in pain, asking him why. He grabbed his knife and ran away then, leaving the walkers to eat her. I asked him if he felt bad about what he did."

Rick was unsure if he wanted to know the answer, but he pressed onward anyway. "What did he say?"

"No," Carl replied bluntly. "He said he didn't care about Melissa. He said he thought she was stupid and bossy. But that's not the worse part."

"There's something worse than all that?"

"Tristan said after we got here and Georgie came to live with him and his dad, she let him sleep in her bed with him. He said he woke up during the night a few times and would watch her sleep or just walk around the room. He said he found her knife and held it to her head and wondered what would happened if he shoved it in her eye while she slept."

"_What_?" Rick was panicked now and his voice was harsh from his concern.

"He said he couldn't do it, because then it would mean he'd have to be alone with his dad again."

"That's his only reason for not killing his mother in her sleep?"

Carl shrugged. "I hope not." He took his hands out of his pockets and mirrored his father by shifting his weight around and leaning on the same leg. "I planned on telling you as soon as you came home, but then the Wolves attacked and then the others started making their way back home. Then you and Georgie came back and Enid was gone and what Tristan said kinda just took a backseat. When I went ahead to the meeting earlier with Carol, I thought maybe you and Georgie would bring Tristan and Judith with you. I didn't know you'd leave him alone with her. I don't want him alone with her, dad. I don't _trust_ him alone with her."

Rick began processing all this information and nodded slowly; a grave look taking up residence on his face. "I'm gonna have to talk to Georgie about this. I don't know if she'll want to hear it or even believe me."

"I'm sorry," Carl replied, letting his shoulders slouch. "I know Georgie makes you happy and that you love her. I know you wouldn't want to upset her like this. But she deserves to know, dad."

"Yeah, I know. And you don't have to be sorry," Rick insisted. He placed his hand on top of his son's head and brushed some of his hair back. "I want to thank you for telling me."

Carl shrugged it off. "You deserved to know, too. I don't want you to wake up in the middle of the night to find Tristan standing over Georgie holding a gun and you being unprepared for what he might do. I don't want you to lose someone else you love."

Rick dropped his hand and looked down at the floor of the scaffold they were standing together on. He nodded in appreciation to his son's comment and exhaled a steadying breath. "Are you okay with me and Georgie being together? I know I haven't had a proper sit down with you to talk about it."

"Mom's gone," Carl remarked simply. "I know you loved her, but you shouldn't be alone forever. And I like Georgie. If the two of you are happy together, it's not really my place to complain about it. Not that I would, I mean. I know she's not replacing mom, but she's a good fit in our lives. Plus, Judy loves her and Judy's a good judge of people, I think."

Rick smirked but it was half-hearted; only because what Carl had told him about Tristan was still weighing to freshly on his mind. "Yeah, Judy definitely is," he agreed. "And I _do_ love Georgie and she _does_ make me happy. I was in a bad place for a long time after your mother. I know I wasn't the father I should've been for you or your sister afterward. I didn't handle things the right way, and I know I tend to leave to go do crazy shit like what we were trying to do today. I put myself in predicaments like that sometimes, but I only do it for you and your sister; to make sure you're safe."

"I know. It's okay."

"It's really not." Rick shook his head and looked out at the walkers on the other side of the wall again. "Once we get this taken care of, I promise to stay home more. My problem is I don't know how to delegate well. I need to do everything myself and can't trust others enough to do what needs to be done, the way I think it should be done."

"You're stubborn."

Rick chuckled. "Yeah, I really am."

"Mom used to say I was stubborn like you."

"Did she now?"

"Yeah," Carl nodded. "I think it's okay to be stubborn. And it's okay if you need to go away to take care of things. You're the leader and people look to you. I get that now. I didn't always, but I now I do. And I'm here when you're not. I can help protect this place from inside when you do it from outside, like a team. Maybe someday we'll switch places, and I'll be the one who goes on the runs and leads herds away and you can stay home and watch Judith."

Rick smirked at the thought. "Maybe someday. Just not anytime soon, if you don't mind." Lifting his hand back up, he ruffled his son's hair. "I know I told you you're a man now, but if you want to stay a kid a while longer, I wouldn't mind it."

Carl nodded and smirked, looking out upon the walkers and the charred houses, one of which he had first glimpsed Enid. "When are you going to talk to Georgie about Tristan?"

Letting out a deep sigh, Rick considered his options. So much had gone on that day. He was physically and mentally wiped and he knew Georgie was, too. He'd left her alone in the house, still cuddling her son on the couch. Though, she wasn't completely alone. Carol was there to help look after Judith while Georgie continued to console Tristan. He didn't think he had to worry about their safety right away, but he knew he couldn't put the topic off too long. Georgie deserved to know, and whatever she decided to do with the information was up to her. He couldn't force her hand or make a decision. When it came down to it, no matter the place Rick took up in her life, Tristan was Georgie's child, and not his.

"Soon," he answered his own son. "Maybe tonight. I dunno. A lot's happened today and I don't necessarily wanna add to it." Casting a glance at Carl, he placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward a smidgen. "You think things will be okay if I put it off until tomorrow?"

Carl took a moment to respond, but then finally nodded, meeting his father's gaze halfway. "Yeah, I think so." Then he added, "I'd like to sleep in Judith's room tonight. I'm not exactly feeling like sharing with Tristan, if that's okay."

Rick nodded. "Yeah, that's fine."

"I'm gonna lock the door from the inside, too."

"I don't think you need to go that far. I don't feel like Tristan would hurt Judith," Rick commented. "The way he was holding her earlier, he seemed as protective of her as you are. I think no matter where he is mentally, he's still just a boy who truly misses his little sister and sees Judy as a replacement for what he's lost."

"I'd sleep easier, though."

Rick nodded, empathizing with his son's worries. "Alright. If it makes you feel safer."

"It would."

"Okay then." As both father and son glanced back out toward the road outside the walled community, Rick turned his body more toward his son. "Wanna take watch for a while?"

Carl smirked. "Yeah," he nodded.

Removing his Colt from his holster, Rick handed it over. "Here."

"Your gun?"

"Keep it as safe as you would your sister."

"I will."

"Bring it right back to me when Tobin relieves you. He's got next watch."

"Okay."

Patting his son on the back, Rick moved to step behind him and head for the ladder, but he paused for a moment. Turning slightly, he pulled Carl slightly toward him and kissed the top of his head. "I love you."

Carl smiled, but tried to play it cool. "Love ya too, dad."

Letting go, Rick began his careful descent down the ladder without another word; only with the knowledge that he had a great kid who he could trust with anyone's life.

* * *

"Did she really?"

"Yeah, Barbara noticed her at the window and screamed. I was nearby; everyone else was just standing around with their thumbs up their asses."

Michonne, Carol and Georgie were standing around the kitchen island as they each contributed to preparing dinner. Michonne was mixing a bowl of instant mashed potatoes, Carol attempting some sort of pasta dish using a can of tomato paste, and Georgie was making some sort of puree involving powdered milk, a bit of honey and chickpeas from can she was mashing the shit out of with a mortar and pestle. The latter wasn't for everyone else, though. It was so baby food for Judith to go along with their depleting supply of pre-jarred baby food they had for her.

The three women were currently discussing the apparent suicide of Betsy, David's wife.

"You took care of it, right?" Carol questioned.

"Someone had to," Michonne confirmed, without having to spell it out.

"Wait, who's Barbara again?" Georgie wondered, looking up from the mortar and pestle.

"Tobin's wife."

"Oh." Georgie made a face. "Yeah, I think I'd have to see her face to remember which one she is."

"Straight red hair. Wears it with a headband," Carol clarified.

"Oh."

"I didn't think she'd take her own life after I told her about David not making it," Michonne continued. "I told her how all he thought about was getting home to her and how much he loved her. I didn't think she'd go home and slit her wrists open."

All three women frowned.

"They were each other's world," Georgie shrugged. "With everything going on and losing the one person that mattered to her in it, she didn't see the point of going on anymore. I can understand that. I think we'd all be lying to ourselves if we said the idea never crossed our minds before. If I lost Tristan or Rick's kids, or—"

"Or Rick," Carol cut in, impishly.

Georgie snickered. "I was getting there," she assured, tossing a whole chickpea at the grey-haired woman's chest. "If I lost them or any of you, if it was just me again here within these walls or outside them, I think taking my own life would be an option I would reconsider."

"_Re_consider?" Michonne queried, casting Georgie a side glance as she popped a whole chickpea into her mouth.

"Yeah." When she noticed Michonne was staring at her, she looked back up and realized she should offer up a little nugget of insight. "A few times, while on the road, when I was by myself the thought had come to mind; before I found my first group, after I lost my second group, which was just a few days before Carol found me, and even as recent as back in Greensboro. I didn't actually consider it that last time. The thought had just come to mind when I thought Tristan was dead. Rick and I weren't exactly where we are now. It would've been easier than if I'd just given up. But I had become so invested in Judith and Carl's lives, that they were enough to keep me going."

"And then, of course, Rick happened," Carol remarked, trying to make some light of the conversation again.

Georgie smiled. "Yeah, he did."

"When did you know?" Michonne asked.

"Know what? That I wanted to consider suicide or that I didn't?"

"No, neither. I mean about Rick. When did you know you loved him? Was there a light switch moment?"

Georgie shrugged. "Well, I think there were moments at Gabriel's church where I was beginning to appreciate the way he looked. I won't lie and say I wasn't attracted to him from pretty much the get go. But love? I feel like it was gradual. I mean, it's not like we've known each other very long, but these days months are like years, you know." Biting her bottom lip, Georgie spooned the mashed chickpeas into a small bowl. "But the moment I knew he loved me is what solidified it for me, too."

"Which was when?"

"In that building where we all reconvened, where Eric was laid up with his sprained ankle," Georgie explained. "Rick was angry at Aaron for how he'd kicked the door open, and how I'd gotten that large bruise on my stomach. He was laying into Aaron about being responsible for me getting hurt, about how the bruise could be possible internal bleeding and then he blurted about not wanting to lose another woman he loved. I questioned him about it later when we slept in the RV. I told him if it was just a mistake, a slip of the tongue, I would understand, but he said he meant it. We didn't actually say the words until our first day here, though."

Squirting some honey into the bowl, Georgie began to mix the ingredients. As she then spooned it into a second bowl full of some powdered milk, she realized both women were looking at her so she looked back up and between them.

"Who said the words first?" Carol wondered.

Georgie knitted her brow together. "Why do you two wanna know these details all the sudden?"

"Because today is turned out pretty shitty and we need something to distract us from not worry about the others not being back," Michonne offered up, sticking her finger into Georgie's homemade baby food to taste test it. "Needs more honey, by the way," she added pointing at the bear-shaped squeeze bottle.

"Fair enough," Georgie shrugged. She nodded in the direction of the stairwell. "We were joking around, right after I'd cut his hair for him. He ended up carrying me up the stairs like I was some bride. He kissed me on the way up and I said the words first. Then he set me down when we reached the top step and he said the words back." Warmth began to reach her face as she realized recalling the memory was making her blush. She was trying not to smile like some teenager gossiping with her besties about the cutest boy in school. "The way he looked at me when he said it, the way he smiled…I felt…I felt so beautiful."

"Why do I have the sudden urge to watch _The Notebook_?" Michonne joked.

"Oh, I loved that movie," Carol smirked. "Ryan Gosling…mmm."

All three women began to chuckle. After the day they'd all had, it was nice to find something to laugh about, that brought smiles to their faces. It was night to shine some light into the dark.

"So, tell us," Carol continued, reaching across to taste test the baby food, too. She hesitated for a moment as she wrapped her lips around her finger and considered the flavors mingling on her tongue. "I think it's enough honey. Any more and it might be too sweet."

"Nah," Michonne parried.

Georgie tried some as well. She scrunched up her nose and shrugged. "Actually, I think could use more chickpeas to thicken it up."

"Anyway," Carol spoke. "Tell us something."

"What?" Georgie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carol look mischievously over at Michonne, and then back at Georgie. "When was the first time you two had sex?"

"What? No, I'm not telling you that."

"I'm pretty sure I already know, anyway."

"It was the night of Deanna's party, wasn't it?" Michonne questioned, although it was more rhetorical. When Georgie looked right at her, she shrugged. "You two went missing after Jake left with Tristan."

Georgie blushed again. "I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations."

"It _was_ that night," Michonne snickered, very sure of herself. "Because now that I remember it, Rick seemed less tightly wound the next day."

As Michonne and Carol giggled, causing Georgie to blush even more and shake her head to avoid smiling like a schoolgirl, the front door clicked open and Rick stepped inside. He stopped mid step and seemed confused when they turned around to look back at him and did their best to not laugh their asses off in his face; well, not Georgie so much, who was failing miserably at hiding how pink her cheeks were.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth.

"Just girl talk," Carol answered, not reining in her smile in the slightest.

"Never mind; I don't wanna know."

Rick cast a look over at Georgie that perplexed her a little. He seemed to have something a bit serious on his mind which got hers reeling with questions.

"Everything alright?" she asked knowingly.

"For now, yeah," he replied vaguely.

Michonne and Carol's teasing demeanor began to fade and their focus returned strictly to that of preparing dinner. Georgie watched as Rick stepped into the living room, peering around for something or someone.

"Alright, now I'm curious," Michonne stated. "What's up?"

"Just, uh…checking for something."

"That wasn't vague at all," Carol retorted.

Rick looked over at the grey-haired woman and shrugged. After a few seconds, he let his blue eyes wander back to Georgie and gave her a nod of his head. "Where's the kids?"

"Judith's taking a nap before dinner and Tristan's coloring in his and Carl's room."

Rick's jaw clenched slightly and he nodded. "Alright." But he didn't seem alright. "Carl should be back home in a little while. He took over watch for me. Have him set the table or something when he returns. I'm gonna grab a shower before then."

"Georgie, you could use a shower, too," Carol stated with a wink.

"Would you stop it already," Georgie remarked, flicking another chickpea in the woman's direction.

"Clearly I missed something important being discussed and I'm okay with that," Rick commented as he ducked out of the kitchen. The sound of his footsteps on the stairs were light and quick, as if he was taking them two at a time to get to the second floor as quickly as possible.

"No sense in wasting hot water on two showers," Michonne offered up, adding to the continued banter. "This is still the apocalypse. We gotta conserve as much as we can."

"I'm trying to make baby food here."

Michonne responded by practically hip checking her. "I can finish it. The mashed potatoes are done anyway."

Hesitating, Georgie looked between and then let her shoulders drop in defeat. "Well, I _could_ use a shower to wash all this sweat, blood and dirt off me. And you two seriously need to get your minds out of the gutter because showering is the only thing that's gonna happen."

"If you say so," Carol muttered.

"Carol, I love you; you're my best friend, but I will not hesitate to throw you over the wall to those walkers."

Carol simply responded by smiling to herself.

With a roll of her eyes and a slight huff of breath, Georgie wiped her hands on her pants and exited the kitchen.

* * *

Just as Georgie had insisted, nothing had happened in the bathroom between her and Rick. His mind seemed a little bit elsewhere and she was tired. They still shared the shower, regardless. They merely chose to keep their hands to themselves and simply clean up. Rick had finished first, having less hair on his head than she did to wash. Plus, he had gotten in before she did.

Rick had retreated into their bedroom, wearing only a towel around his waist. He threw on a pair of plain, denim jeans to wear for the meantime because he planned on tossing his usual black jeans into the wash so he could wear them again the following day, which he usually did every night. They were a sort of comfort to him. He didn't care how ill-fitting they were on him now or how many holes were developing in them. Rick would probably wear them until the material disintegrated and they fell off him.

Georgie had appeared a couple minutes later in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around her body and her wet hair hanging damp around her shoulders and down her back. She dropped her dirty clothes into a pile with his and padded over to the dresser to pull out something clean to wear; choosing those black yoga pants she'd worn after her first shower in Alexandria, along with a loose, black tee.

Rick was sitting on the bed, still only in his jeans, when Georgie caught him staring at her.

"Penny for your thoughts, Rick?"

Looking contemplative, he shook his head. "It can wait till tomorrow."

"Well, that doesn't put me at ease."

"Sorry. It's just…a lot's happened today."

"Yeah."

"It was nice coming home and seeing you three laughing. We need as much of that as we can get."

Georgie nodded, stepping up to him. "Yeah, we do," she agreed. Tossing her clean clothes down onto the bed beside him, she cupped his face in her hands and smiled. "Everything's gonna work out. I mean, it has to."

Rick nodded back. "I hope so."

Leaning down, Georgie pressed her lips to his. "So do I."

* * *

Rick and Georgie had gotten dressed, their group, as splintered as it was, gathered in the main house to sit down for a quiet meal together. There wasn't much in the way of conversation because everyone was still so worried about the fates of Glenn, Daryl, Abraham and Sasha. Maggie was the most distant and for good reason. Glenn was her husband after all, and earlier that afternoon Glenn and Nicholas' names had been added the list of names on the wall of those who had died. Assuming the former was dead was like a kick to the face for their family, considering they had no way of knowing either way just yet if Glenn _was_ in fact dead or not.

Tara had invited Denise over to eat with them, knowing the community's only medic would end up eating alone in her apartment or not eating at all while she looked after Scott in the Infirmary. Denise didn't stay too long after she was finished with her meal, though; insisting she needed to check on how Scott was doing, so Tara offered to walk with her. Carl was holding Judith in his lap, feeding her scoops of the baby food concoction Georgie had made and that the little girl seemed to enjoy, while he simultaneously was feeding himself. Tristan sat across from Carl, next to his mother, prodding his food with his fork and eventually claimed he wasn't hungry, and if he could be excused. Georgie consented and allowed her son to leave the table and head upstairs to his room, most likely to play. Morgan, Carol, Michonne, Rosita, Eugene and Gabriel were seated around the living room, silently eating.

Because of the walkers outside the walls, and now that night had fallen, the only lights on inside the house were a few candles. The shades were drawn just in case and what conversation was had was kept low.

Georgie had gotten up and found some cling wrap to cover Tristan's plate so she could place it in the fridge to save it for later. There was no wasting food in the world now. If he didn't finish it for lunch the next day, someone would. While she began cleaning up some of the dishes, Rick got up and whispered something to Carl and then walked over to Georgie with his own plate in hand, setting it in the sink. When he leaned in and kissed her cheek, it startled her, but in a pleasant way.

Turning to face him, Georgie smiled. "I'm glad Judith liked the food I made."

"What's in it anyway?"

"Mashed chickpeas, powdered milk and honey."

Rick smirked. "Martha Stewart, eat your heart out."

"She probably has literally eaten someone's heart out," Georgie teased. "Martha Stewart has probably, _literally_ died up in Connecticut, or wherever she lived, and came back as a walker and has eaten people's hearts out of their chests."

"Lori used to buy her magazines and watch her show," he informed. "It's kind of ironic that they were called _Martha Stewart Living_, huh?"

Georgie chuckled. "Yeah," she nodded. "Now it's just _Martha Stewart Decaying_."

Rick snickered at the bad pun, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Brushing at some of her ginger locks, he brought his lips to her cheek again. "I'm gonna take a walk. Check the perimeter."

"Okay."

"Hold the fort while I'm gone," he muttered in a slightly teasing tone.

"Aye aye, Captain," she answered back.

After Rick left, Maggie did, too. No one knew where she was going and nobody asked. It was possible she was just going to take a walk as well, to simply clear her head. Eugene went next door to the second house with Rosita and Gabriel. Carol help cleaning up the dishes while Morgan shot her a rather judgmental look and went outside to get some air. Michonne remained in the living room, taking Judith from Carl, but the teen stayed close to his baby sister. Everyone seemed to find something to keep themselves busy and take their minds off the worry and doubt for their friends' fates that was hanging heavy in the air.

About an hour later, mostly everyone had called it a night. Georgie was the last one downstairs. She was waiting for Rick to return before she blew out the candles lying lit around the kitchen, dining and living spaces.

When she heard his boots coming up the steps to the porch, Georgie greeted him at the door and extinguished the flame of the last candle, which sat upon the dining table.

"You have blood on your shirt," she noticed, grabbing at the bottom of it.

Rick looked down and shrugged. "Just a little."

"What happened?"

"One of the Wolves that Carol had shot and lost track of, he must've hidden under one of the houses and died. He turned and came after Deanna. She was stabbing the hell out of his chest with a broken bottle, working through some issues, I guess. I ran over and killed it."

"Is she okay?"

Rick nodded. "I think she will be. Eventually," he replied as she ushered him into the laundry room. "She pretty much told me to take over leading this place. I told her the people needed her to lead them, and she said they needed me instead."

"You're exactly who these people need," Georgie remarked, pulling his shirt up to get it off him. "I'm glad she can see that now. I'm just sorry about everything that had to happen for her to see it."

"Yeah," he agreed, watching as she opened the washer and tossed the shirt in with the pile of dirty clothes in a basket on the floor waiting to get washed; his black jeans among them.

While Georgie began to pour a small capful of detergent into the machine with the clothes, and then close the lid, Rick reached across to turned the machine on for her after she set the dial for the type of wash and time. The two of them looked and smiled affectionately at each other. Taking a step closer to her to close the gap between their bodies, Rick placed and arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug.

"I love you," he muttered.

Georgie melted against him as if she was hearing those words for the first time again. "I love you, too," she cooed into his neck. When she turned her face upward more, she placed a kiss onto his stubbly jaw and then brought her hands up to rest upon his bare chest.

The small hum of contentment it elicited out of him brought a grin to her face as she pulled back and stepped away from him. At first, he seemed confused, and then just curious as he turned and watched her shut the laundry room door and set it on lock.

As she walked back over to him, she pulled her shirt up over her head and tossed it to the floor and then began to slip out of her yoga pants. His eyes never left her, especially not when she stepped in front of him and jumped up to sit on the rumbling washer. Lifting her legs up, she coaxed him over to her by curling her toes into the waistband of his jeans.

He had caught her drift easily enough.

Reaching forward, Rick placed his hands on her hips and pulled her panties off her ass and then slid them down her legs only to drop them on the floor with her other clothes. He then gripped her thighs tightly in his hands and coaxed her closer to the edge of the washer before unzipping his pants and shoving them off his hips until they pooled at his ankles.

Claiming her lips with his, neither one bothered with any foreplay as Rick positioned himself at her entrance and thrust right into her in time with the thumping of the machine underneath her; the vibrations easily helping their situation along.

Wrapping her legs around his waist to take him all the way in, Georgie ran her fingers up through his hair which was already starting to get long again. His curls, like hers, were soft from being washed and his skin smelled so good from their earlier shower.

_He_ felt so good.

"I love you," she panted as he continued to bury himself to pump deeply in and out of her while gripping her ass in his strong, calloused hands.

"I love you, too," he reciprocated. Even though she knew he meant it, he sounded like he was a million miles away.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's wrong?" Georgie asked just as he swiveled his hips in such a way to cause her breath to hitch and get her to start seeing stars.

"I'm sure," he insisted, burying his face into her shoulder and kissing her neck. "Let's end tonight on something good. Tomorrow's another day."


	29. Two Birds, One Stone

**Author's Note:** **_Many apologies for the lack of updates, but the holidays were crazy and the overall season zapped any and all inspiration. Instead, I just marathoned a shit ton of different television shows and movies I was due to catch up on. All inspiration returned last night, however, and I was able to continue writing once more. Hope this chapter is up to snuff for the lot of you. If not...well, tough titties. I've just enjoyed writing again! As usual, _PLEASE READ &amp; REVIEW!_ It's the only way I can tell that anyone gives a shit for me to continue._**

**_xoxo - _Holly**

* * *

_"__99 red balloons_

_Floating in the summer sky_

_Panic bells it's red alert_

_There's something here from somewhere else."_

— Nena

* * *

Rick woke up first the next morning, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling while Georgie was curled tightly into a ball at his side with her butt pressed against his hip and the flats of her feet against his bare legs. He wasn't fazed by how cold her feet felt against his warm skin. It was a win-win, really. Like most men and women sharing a bed together, he was her personal furnace and she was his personal air conditioner. He had gone so many nights — before, during and after the prison — sleeping without a blanket that even when he felt chilled, he was just used to sleeping without one. Even now, in bed with Georgie, in lying in a bed, in a house with heat and electricity and running water, he still felt like he was outside the walls instead of in. He still slept without a blanket covering him.

As children, and even sometimes into adulthood, people would throw their blankets up over their heads as if it was some sort of magical barrier or shield that would protect them from the bumps in the night. Obviously thin cotton material wouldn't stop any sort of attack from happening, but it was like Rick couldn't be bothered with the pretense while he was sleeping. If he had to get up in a hurry, he didn't want to be caught up in sheets.

With his hands resting upon his chest, he began twirling his wedding ring around his finger again; listening to the sound of Georgie breathing deeply and he wondered for a moment what she was dreaming about. Turning his head, he glanced at the back of hers and the cascade of ginger locks that obstructed his view of her neck and shoulders. He was tempted to reach out and touch them, curl his fingers around them and just all-around find comfort in their softness.

The way life was now, the harshness of it all, it was nice to revel in soft, gentle things from time to time. Georgie wasn't necessarily a complete softy. She could be as much of a hard-ass as he could be, but she was also gentle, both physically and personally. It probably had a lot to do with the fierce mama bear instinct she had over their three combined children. She would fight tooth and nail, she would slaughter cannibals without question, and she would risk her life to help lead a herd away from where the children were safe, as long as the walls held. And then there was the way she let Judith hold her finger or the way her the soft firmness of her hand covering his made Rick feel calm and safe. There was the way she trailed her hands along his body, the way her lips made his skin feel like it was on fire, and the way he came alive simply in her presence.

Along with his children and their people, Georgie was his world now.

He loved seeing her happy and hated to see her sad or scared.

Which is why Rick had such a heavy pang of guilt weighing down on his chest knowing what he about her son; about what _his _son told him. He didn't know how she would handle it or accept it. He did know he couldn't keep something like that from her any longer. He believed he would've told her the night before, but then that moment in the laundry room happened and he decided he'd rather end the day on a high rather than a low.

They _deserved_ to have their day end on a high.

Gently moving, Rick rolled onto his right side and at up, tossing his legs over the edge of the bed before planting his feet onto the hardwood floor. For a moment, he sat hunched forward, picking at the sleep in the corners of his eyes before looking over to his nightstand and grabbing up his watch. He checked the time and then slid it on his wrist. With a casual look over his shoulder at the still sleeping form of Georgie, Rick pulled himself up to his feet and walked quietly around the bed toward the dresser where he removed a crisp white T-shirt to wear for the day.

The shirt he'd worn the day before was had been tossed into the dryer after the washing machine finished cleaning it and was probably still sitting there in the dryer.

Rick smirked as he pulled the shirt on, dazing off into some sort of daydream as he remembered how divine it felt to bury himself between Georgie's legs while the washing machine vibrated under her ass and against the fronts of his thighs. Focusing on the memory, whoever briefly, felt like he was right back there and that enough to make him want to take off his pants and wake her up for another go.

But there was work to be done.

Leaving the bedroom, he ducked briefly into the bathroom for his morning constitution and to brush his teeth, and then turned the knob to enter Judith's room, only to find the door was locked. Frowning initially, Rick remembered Carl had asked to sleep in Judith's room and lock themselves in over his worry in regard to Tristan.

With his the middle knuckle of his right index finger, Rick knocked gently on the door and then leaned closely to it. "Carl, it's dad."

He waited for a moment, and then heard the muffled shuffling of feet followed by the clicking of the doorknob lock being turned. When the door opened up, Rick looked down into the face of his son who was looking back up at him with sleepy blue eyes and his shaggy brown hair all over the place.

Rick smirked. "Sorry to wake you so early."

"It's okay. I was up anyway."

Somehow Rick didn't believe him, and that his son was just trying to be tough. Smirking despite it, Rick stepped into the room and saw Judith was still asleep. He reached down into her playard and gently touched his hand to her hair, brushing some of it back but careful not to wake her. "I'm gonna take my morning walk around the perimeter, see how the wall's holding up, and check to see if there's been any sighting of the others coming back," he informed his son. "Georgie's still asleep, and so is Tristan as far as I know."

"Did you tell Georgie yet about what I told you?"

"No, not yet," he replied, standing back up straight. "I will a bit later, though, I swear." Turning around, he placed one hand on the edge of the playard and the other on his hip as he looked back at his Carl. "More than enough happened yesterday. I didn't want to add to it if I didn't have to. Until I do, though, keep Judith in your sights if an adult isn't nearby. Just to play it safe."

"Okay," Carl nodded. "I was thinking of visiting Mikey later. Nicholas is his dad and is all he has. He's staying with Tobin's family right now, but I thought I'd see if he was doing okay."

Rick nodded. "That's real nice of you."

Carl nodded as well. "He's a friend."

"I'm glad you're making friends. I'm still sorry Enid took off, too, and I want you to know I meant it when I said we'd look for her when we could."

"I know we will."

Stepping forward, Rick placed a hand on his son's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Hold down the fort."

Carl snickered. "Don't I always?"

Rick stopped in the doorway, turning back to look at his son with a slightly guilty expression. "Yeah, and I'm sorry I've put that weight on your shoulders. I still wish you could have the childhood I did, that none of this had to happen to you."

"It's happened to everyone." The teen shrugged. "I'm not the only kid who's had to live through some awful shit. I mean, at least I still have you and Judith, and the others. Enid had no one left and Mikey might not have anyone left. I only lost mom where they've lost both their mom and dad, so far. I'd say I'm lucky, and I don't mind doing what I have to do to help keep it that way."

Considering his son's words, Rick nodded. "I just want you kids to be safe. That's all I want in this life."

Carl knitted his brow together. "You don't want more? Someday Judy and I will be grown up and we won't need you to protect us all the time."

Rick narrowed his gaze at his son. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm not some little kid anymore, dad." The teen chuckled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Mom's gone and I know you loved her and always will, but I also know you love Georgie now, too."

"I know I haven't come right out and sat you down to talk about that and I'm sorry. So much has been going on. There's been a lot for me to juggle. I don't want you to think I'm replacing your mom by being with Georgie."

"Dad, trust me, I'm okay with it. We were all in a bad place after mom died and I know you had a lot to deal with, and I wasn't exactly winning any son of the year awards."

"I wasn't winning any father of the year awards," Rick retorted. "Pretty sure I still ain't."

"Eh," Carl shrugged with a grin. "You're doing okay."

"Seriously, though, Carl: I'm sorry."

"Shit happens, right?"

"Language," Rick muttered knowingly.

"Just…find more in this life to live for than Judy and me. I know you say Georgie isn't replacing mom, but it's okay if Georgie takes up the place mom left behind. Someone needs to. You shouldn't grow old alone."

"If I _get_ to grow old."

"Don't be depressing."

"Sorry, but we had that discussion before, in Hershel's barn, that someday your mom and I would both be gone…"

"Yeah, but the 'when' was never discussed; and if I ever become a father someday, I want you to still be around to be a _grand_father."

Rick began to grin from ear to ear. "Now _there's_ a thought: Grandpa Grimes."

Carl pointed at his father. "You already got the grey hair and beard thing going on."

"Hey, I will throw you over that wall to those walkers."

Carl chuckled and waved his hand at his father. "Go walk the perimeter already."

Casting his eyes downward, Rick considered everything that had just been said between father and son and he couldn't help but smirk at how nice it was to talk like that with Carl. They hadn't had a really in depth discussion, one on one, in a long while. The conversations at the lookout the day before and the one they'd just concluded were only the tips of the iceberg on more things he wanted to sit down with Carl and talk about, or delve more into.

"Let's put aside some time sooner rather than later to talk more like this, okay?" Rick questioned as he positioned himself half out the door into the hallway. Bringing his eyes back up, he watched Carl nod.

"Cool."

Rick sniffed with amusement and the typical teenage response. "Cool," he repeated.

* * *

Upon waking up, Georgie rolled over in bed with an arm outstretch, expecting to find the soft yet firm mass that was Rick's body beside her. Discovering that his side of the bed was empty, she lifted her head and opened her eyes. She wasn't worried about where he was, just sad she didn't get to kiss him good morning first thing. Not one to wallow in something as trivial as Rick rising earlier than she did and getting a head start on the day, Georgie got up and went about doing the same.

She went into the bathroom, disrobed and took a quick shower and then redressed some fresh clothing. All in all it took less than twenty minutes which was a personal best as of late because she didn't use the blow dryer to dry her damned thick locks. She let took a brush through her damp mane and hoped it wasn't too humid to make it all go frizzy on her and make her look something akin to little orphan Annie.

Her next task was heading across the hall where she found Carl reading his comic books aloud to Judith who was awake in her playard.

"Hey, you two."

Carl looked up and stopped in the middle of the sentence he was reading and smiled up at her as she was in mourning and he was walking on egg shells as not to make her cry. "Hey, Georgie."

"You okay?" she asked perceptively.

He nodded a bit too insistently. "Yeah, I'm good. Just reading to Judy."

Narrowing her eyes in a very 'mom' way, she decided to let whatever was making Carl seem antsy slide. Instead, she nodded toward his sister. "Has Judith had a diaper change or eaten yet?"

"I changed her diaper and I was about to take her downstairs and get her some cereal to eat after this page."

"You finish reading then," Georgie remarked, stepping fully inside the room and walking up to the playard. "I'll take her downstairs."

"Uh…okay."

As she leaned down, picked Judith up and set the sweet little girl down on her left hip. "You sure you're okay?" she asked of Carl once more.

"Yeah, I've just got things on my mind."

"Enid, right? Last night your dad mentioned you were worried about her."

"Yeah. I think she went over the wall and I don't know if she's okay or not."

Offering a gentle smile, Georgie placed her free hand down upon the teen's shoulder. "She made it a long while on her own outside these walls. I think it's safe to say she stands a good chance."

"That's pretty much what my dad said."

"Well, you're dad's a pretty smart guy."

Carl nodded and smiled. "Yeah."

"Enid probably just got scared with the Wolves attacking and wanted to get away. She's probably close by but can't get back in because of the herd at the walls," Georgie continued. "I bet she's just lying low, bidding her time until it's safe to return. She's not like the other Alexandrians. She's lost a lot and done whatever she had to in order to survive just like us. She's a survivor."

After a beat of silence, Carl bit his lip momentarily and found himself muttering, "I'm not sure my mom would've liked her."

Georgie chuckled. "Why the hell not?"

"She doesn't stay in the house."

Furrowing her brow, Georgie shook her head. "I'm assuming you're referring to some sort of inside joke from before I joined the group."

Carl shrugged. "My mom and dad would tell me to stay inside the house or stay wherever we were camping out at, but I was stubborn and wanted to help out and it usually got me hurt or someone else hurt instead. I never meant for any of it to happen, I just hated not being included or allowed to help. I don't know if you're aware but going through this time in my life during an apocalypse is kinda stressful."

"Hey, being an adult right now isn't a picnic either."

"My mom would get so frustrated with me for not staying in the house, and since Enid likes to climb the walls and go over them, I feel like my mom would get just as frustrated with her and think she was some sort of bad influence on me."

"Do _you_ think she's a bad influence on you?"

"No."

"Are you happy around Enid?"

"Yeah."

"Then wouldn't your mom want you to be happy?"

After a moment, Carl nodded. "Well, yeah."

"I think as long as you're happy and the two of you know how to be safe, your mother would approve of Enid. Like you said, going through this time of your life in an apocalypse is hard enough. If you can have something of a normal life with a girl you like, like all teenagers should, then I hardly feel like your mom would want anything less for you."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"As a mother, myself: I know so."

Without anything else spoken between them, only gentle smiles flashed at one another, Georgie took her leave of the nursery, but Carl wasn't far behind. Before she made her way downstairs, she knocked on the door to the bedroom Carl had been sharing with Tristan and then turned the handle to let herself in. As she looked around for her son, she noted that Carl was standing especially close to her, as if he was some sort of lap dog. She could feel tension permeating off him like an odor and when she came to the realization that her son wasn't in the bedroom, she turned and looked behind her at Carl instead.

"Okay, seriously, there's something more than Enid bugging you, isn't there?"

"What makes you think that?"

"You're standing there like a Doberman ready to either pounce on its victim or piss itself. What gives?" She narrowed her gaze with concern as she hoisted Judith, who was chewing on her fingers, up a little better on her hip.

"I'd tell you but it's better it didn't come from me."

"Well, _that_ doesn't make me feel nervous at all," Georgie commented sarcastically.

"Sorry," Carl shrugged almost guiltily. "My dad will talk to you about it."

Arching an eyebrow, Georgie was fully intrigued now. A million and one different thoughts began to ping pong around her mind as she accepted what Carl had just said to her. Leaving the boys' bedroom open, she led the way down the stairs and straight through to the kitchen where she was greeted right away by both Carol and Michonne…and Tristan.

The latter was seated at the kitchen island, nursing a bowl of oatmeal that he was eagerly gobbling up while the two women stood nearby with mugs in their hands, of what was most likely coffee, and not tea; judging by the aroma wafting around the room.

"Morning, sleepyheads," Carol winked. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Georgie replied; walking over toward the fridge to take out a bottle pre-filled with formula as she passed the toddler off to Michonne who readily set her mug on the island to accept the warm bundle of baby in her arms. Setting the bottle down on the counter beside the fridge, she moved around the island and placed her hands on either side of Tristan's head and kissed the top of it. "Morning, sweetie."

"Morning, mom."

Georgie smiled, content with her lot, as she wander back around to the counter and then crouched down to pull a saucepan out of one of the lower cupboards before moving to the sink to fill the saucepan with water. "Did either of you see Rick before he left the house?"

Michonne nodded. "He mentioned wanting us to have a talk with Morgan in a little later today."

"He let a few of those Wolves go," Carol inputted. "He doesn't seem to understand that there are certain things we need to do in order to protect ourselves — certain measures that need to be taken that he seems ill-equipped with dealing with."

As Georgie began to heat up the saucepan on the stove top, she turned around and looked over at Carol, understanding that she was being vague about what she said for the sake of Tristan. Judith was too young to understand and nothing was really kept from Carl anymore. He was barely into his fifteenth year and he had already seen and done enough in the last nearly two years of the apocalypse than the average person would've done in their entire lifetime. There was no need to mince words around the teenager anymore.

"Who's going to be here for the talk?"

"Rick, Michonne, myself and you, I assume."

Georgie nodded. "Yeah, I'll be here for it."

The water in the saucepan began to boil so she stuck the premade bottle inside to warm it up that way. For both her children, that was how she warmed their bottles. She had friends in the world before, and even her sister, who would stick baby bottles in microwaves and that about made Georgie cringe for a number of reasons. When the bottle felt warm enough, she turned off the flame under the saucepan and tipped the bottle over so that some of the formula dribbled out onto her wrist to test the temperature. Determining it was just the right temperature for Judith's sensitive palate, Georgie held the bottle in one hand and reached out to take the child back from Michonne.

"Can I feed her, mom?" Tristan asked, shoveling the last spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth and then pushing the bowl aside.

Before Georgie to respond with an answer in the negative, Carl jumped in and changed the subject rather abruptly. "You wanna go for a walk? I was gonna visit Mikey. You should come with me."

Tristan looked between Carl and his mother, and then back before shrugging. "Okay."

As the nine-year-old hopped down from the stool he was sitting on at the kitchen island, he ran over toward the door where his shoes were and sat down to pull them on. While Georgie had taken a seat at the dining table with Judith on her lap, she watched how the teenager seemed to be keeping a protective eye on her son and a few red flags began waving in her head. However, Georgie didn't know what was up exactly, but she was determined to get to the bottom of it. If there was some sort of issue going on between the boys, she hoped it didn't end in some sort of argument. They couldn't afford any unnecessary noise within the walls at the moment drawing more attention from the herd outside.

* * *

No more than an hour later, Rick passed Carl and Tristan coming from Tobin's house where Nicholas' son Mikey was staying so the other teen wasn't alone while his father was missing. He caught his own son's eye as they walking back toward the direction of their own home and he began to chew the inside of his bottom lip, knowing he couldn't put off talking to Georgie any longer. The look in Carl's eye was basically telling him to get on it already.

Making his way toward the Gazebo to try and catch up to Carl and Tristan, Rick noticed the preacher was there putting up handmade signs announcing a prayer circle that afternoon. He considered the notion with some bitterness, mostly because he was still pissed off at the preacher for going behind their backs to betray them unjustly to Deanna and just being an all-around annoying dipshit. In what could be construed in a childish gesture, Rick reached out and ripped the sign down as he passed Gabriel. He balled the paper up in his hands and tossed it to the ground as he continued onward without a glance back to see if Gabriel had noticed what he'd done.

Not that he actually even cared either way, of course.

Rick stepped through the doors to the home he shared with have of his group, mere seconds behind his son and surrogate son, and was met with Georgie lying on her side on the living room floor while his daughter sat beside her, playing with a teething ring. Michonne and Carol were currently AWOL from the main living space, but that didn't mean they weren't close by.

"Hey," he greeted with a nod of his head down toward his lover.

"Hey, yourself," she replied, pushing her body up into a sitting position. "Is it time for that meeting with Morgan? Carol and Michonne told me about it."

"What? Oh. No, not yet," Rick replied, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin as he knowingly eyed his son who was reaching down to pick up his sister while Tristan had disappeared upstairs to play or draw or whatever else it was the kid liked doing. "I was wondering if you and I could talk about some things."

"Okay."

"In private," he added, knowing by the look on her face that she was quickly alerted to the seriousness in his tone and that she was probably running through a million and one terrible things in her head. "Maybe we could go to the other house to talk."

"Next door or—"

"The other one."

Georgie nodded, getting up to her feet and absentmindedly brushing her hands on her thighs once she was standing. "Alright."

"Carl, you're in charge unless Carol or Michonne come back."

"Carol went to bring a casserole to the Millers. Michonne's taking a shower," Georgie informed.

Rick cast a glance her way and nodded, but looked back at his son to make sure he was gonna be okay. He didn't bother saying much more of anything to Carl but he did step over to both his children, placing a solid hand on his son's shoulder while dropping a kiss on top of Judith's head. "We'll be back in a little bit, if Michonne or Carol asks."

Carl nodded dutifully. "Okay."

As Georgie was led out the front door by Rick, she kept throwing looks up at him, all the way down the steps and as they began walking up the sidewalk toward the blue house. "Are we gonna talk about that awkwardness back there?"

"Yeah."

"Did I do something to piss you off or something? Carl's acting weird. He says whatever is bothering him you'd talk to me about. Is it about us? Is he upset with us together, because I could've sworn he seemed pretty okay with it?"

Rick sighed, placing his hand on the small of her back as they reached the steps leading up to the blue house's front porch. "Let's get inside first."

Once they made it up the steps and pushed open the door, stepping inside, Rick couldn't help himself and immediately think about every surface in the house they'd rechristened only a few days prior. He had to force those thoughts out of his mind, as wonderful as they were, to focus on the task at hand. Shutting the door behind him, he threw a look over at the plywood board that had been nailed up where the picture window he and Jake had crashed through had been. The temporary blanket was gone and assumed he could credit Tobin with having taken care of the window issue.

"Why don't you sit down," he suggested, running a hand through his hair and scratching slightly at his scalp.

"I feel like maybe I'm not gonna _want_ to sit down. You're making me nervous."

"Sorry, I just…I'm not sure how to broach this kind of subject with you."

"Well, shit, that doesn't make me feel any less nervous." Folding her arms under her bosom, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Just spit it out, whatever it is. Pretend it's a Band-Aid and rip that bitch off."

Despite himself, Rick chuckled under his breath at her candor. "Easier said than done."

"It really is."

"It really _isn't_."

Georgie could practically hear her heart beating in her ears. "Okay, well, is it something I did?"

Rick shook his head adamantly. Taking a step forward, he placed his hands over her elbows and held gently onto her, letting his eyes briefly reach hers. "No, it's nothing you did. You're perfect."

Georgie snorted and shook her head. "Hardly."

"Well, to me you are."

"Alright, so you're buttering me up to ease me into talking about something terrible, which makes me feel worse. Seriously, please…rip the Band-Aid off, Rick."

Letting out a shaky sigh, Rick's shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands from her elbows; instead shoving them into his back pockets. "Alright, fine. It's not about you or anything you did. It's about Tristan. It's about what he's done and still might do."

Instantly knitting her brow together, Georgie took a step back from Rick. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Tristan lied about what happened with that woman Melissa — about how she died."

"What do you mean?"

"Tristan told Carl the truth about it, that afternoon before the meeting at Deanna's."

"Told him what?" she pressed, feeling defensive already in regard to her son.

"He wanted to use the gun she had and she said no, and it made him angry. While she was sleeping, he stole it from her and shot her in the chest with it, to see if he could do it and what it'd be like. The noise drew the walkers, who attacked her as she was already dying. That much was true. He got scared when they came. He dropped the gun, ran and hid," Rick informed, feeling guilty about saying any of this as if it was somehow his fault. He just hadn't wanted her to have to deal with something like this, which was why he was more than willing to help her deal with it accordingly. "He told Carl he didn't feel bad about what he did. Tristan's also the one that took your knife and hid it in Jake's closet, not Jake. He watched you sleep while you let him share the bed with you those first few nights in this house. He found your knife and watched you sleep and thought about stabbing you with it."

Georgie's face fell. Shaking her head, she attempted to deny her little boy could be capable of such monstrous deeds and thoughts. "No, he'd never…"

"He has. He did."

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_, you're going by hearsay. Did you hear this from Tristan's lips? Maybe Carl's just making up stories."

"C'mon now, you know Carl enough to know he'd never joke about something so serious. _I_ know my son enough to know he's not lying about this and has no reason to." Rick took half a step toward Georgie just as she took a full one further back from him, causing him to stop in his place. "There's drawings. They're dark and not something a child should be drawing."

"All kids draw monsters sometimes."

"All kids don't draw themselves shooting their mothers in the head, Georgie."

"What?"

"Carl's seen the drawings. They're drawings of Tristan killing you. Carl's afraid to leave Judith alone with him. Carl's afraid for her and he's afraid for you, too, and so am I."

"Rick, seriously, there's no way—"

"I've seen the drawings, too," he blurted. "This morning, right before I left, I went into the boys' bedroom. I was quiet; I made sure not to wake Tristan up. In the closet, in a box, I found the drawings. They're…detailed. He really likes to use that red crayon. I think that whatever he'd been through and seen out there in the world before arriving within these walls…I think it changed him the same way it changed Jake. This world brought out the worst in a lot of people, and I think sometimes we forget children can be affected the same way."

"My son is not a monster. He's not a killer. He's scared and he's confused is all."

"Honey, I'm not saying he's a monster or a killer. I'm saying he's troubled. I'm saying he's seen too much for his young mind to process properly. He didn't have his parents around to help him through this changing world, and that's no fault of your own. It's a shame you got separated from him so early on. You searched and searched for him and even when you felt like giving up hope, you never really did. You did everything you could to find him, and a wonderful twist of fate allowed you to." Georgie might not have wanted to sit down, but Rick did. Letting his shoulders droop slightly, he took a few steps aside and sank down onto the blue couch. "You couldn't help him before, but you can help him now. _We_ can help him. I'm in this for the long haul with you. I told you I consider Tristan as much as my family as I do Carl and Judith, and I meant it. I ain't gonna let you go through getting Tristan the help he needs alone. We met that new doctor Denise, who was a psychiatrist in the old world." Looking up at Georgie, Rick saw that she was still standing with her arms folded across her chest and staring at the floor with the most heartbreakingly conflicted expression on her face. "We can have her talk to him. She's a professional, after all."

Georgie parted her lips in an attempt to say something but the words didn't come right away. Instead, she walked around the coffee table and came to sit down on the other side of the couch next to Rick. Placing her hands in her lap, she turned her head and stared at him only to find he was already staring back. The look on his face was that of concern but also empathy.

Georgie sighed, maintaining eye contact with him. "I just can't picture my son doing or thinking things like that. What used to get me through my darkest days when I was trying to find him was picturing him before the world fell apart. I pictured him playing with his Lego kits or toy trucks while making the rumbling motor sound with his mouth." Smiling for a fraction of a second, Georgie's face fell as tears burned at her eyes and began to fall. "Why did he have to change like this?"

"He just…he didn't how else to be anymore," Rick muttered lamely, not really knowing much to say to that. Reaching an arm out he moved it around her back and placed his hand on her shoulder furthest from him to pull her closer. As she took the welcomed hint, Rick leaned slightly to right to meet her halfway as she rested her head down upon his shoulder. "He was young—I mean, he still is—and all he saw was death; the walking dead, the living getting killed and returning as the walking dead. It's hard enough for us, as adults, to process it, but at least we've had decades of reasoning and knowing what's right from what's more or less wrong. Tristan hasn't had enough years. His mind is young and impressionable. He coped by identifying with what he was experiencing is my guess."

"I know you said it's not my fault, but it is," Georgie insisted, wiping the errant tears from her face. "I should've fought harder with Jake to get him to help me find Tristan. I could've taken Avery with me and gone out looking for Tristan, and then maybe my daughter would be alive too."

"Damnit, Georgie," Rick muttered with exasperation, not with aggravation. "You can't wallow in the shoulda-coulda-woulda. What happened, happened. There's a shit ton I wish I would've done differently, but I can't change any of that. I just have to live with it and do the best I can with what I have now and hope to learn from what I did wrong or whatever. That's all any of us can do. That's all _you_ can do." Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Rick placed his lips to the top of her head, briefly inhaling the scent of shampoo that lingered in her hair. "We're gonna get through this together. You and I will talk to Tristan and we won't chastise him or anything. We'll ease into it as gently as possible and tell him we know he's having a hard time and thinking some things that are wrong. We'll tell him we know what really happened with that woman Melissa, but we're not angry, just concerned and want to help him. We'll let him talk if he wants and then we'll bring him to Denise."

"When?"

"To Denise?"

Georgie nodded. "Yeah."

"Today, or tomorrow," he replied. "As soon as we can."

"I think tomorrow might be best. I think taking him to talk to Denise about it so soon after we talk to him might be too much too soon. I don't want him to get nervous and clam up or anything like that."

"Alright, that sounds good," Rick agreed. "First thing tomorrow morning, after breakfast, we'll take him to the Infirmary to have a sit down with Denise, but we should bring it up to her first so we're not springing it on her."

"Okay."

As Georgie leaned away from him to sit upright once more, Rick brushed some hair back off her shoulder closest to him and then brushed his thumb along the side of her face to wipe dry the wet streak left behind by a tear that had recently fallen. "You gonna be okay? I know this is hard to take in."

"I don't know exactly how I feel," she shrugged. "Numb, I guess?"

"That's understandable."

Turning her head, Georgie looked upon Rick's face once again. "How long have you known about this?"

"Since yesterday evening, when I was up on the scaffold keeping watch," he answered. "Carl came up to talk about Enid, and I could tell something else was bothering him, and that's when he told me. I almost told you last night but, after everything that happened yesterday, I didn't want to end the day with upsetting news." Watching her process this, he frowned. "Would you have wanted me to tell you last night?"

Georgie sighed, breathing out heavily through her nostrils. "Yes, but in retrospect, I agree you made the right call. We needed last night to end the way it did."

Despite the seriousness of their main topic of conversation, Rick smirked. "So, we should end bad days in the laundry room, having sex with the washer going?"

"Having sex in general, to be honest," Georgie smirked back at him. "You can't deny it ain't a great stress reliever."

Rick's eyes sparkled slightly as he tilted his head in agreement. "That it is."

"It helps when you're in love with your partner; makes it that much better."

A proper smile spread across Rick's lips and he dragged his hand up through the thick, ginger lock's cascading down Georgie's back before running his fingers along her back of her head. With his fingers splayed across her scalp, he gave he gently urged her to look more toward his direction. When she acquiesced to his gestured, Rick leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers while the tips of their noses also touched.

"Do you think we'll ever get through any of this?" Georgie asked after a quiet moment fell between them.

"Tristan, the wall of walkers, and the whereabouts of Glenn, Abraham and Sasha?"

"And the rest of the people inside these walls who still don't get it…"

Rick sighed this time, pulling back from Georgie, but leaving his hand where it was on the base of her skull. "I hope like hell we do." Then, more insistently, "We have to."

"Speaking of people who still don't get it," Georgie broached solemnly, "when's this meeting with Morgan supposed to happen?"

Leaning back, Rick dropped his hand from her head and rested it on his thigh. "Soon. I saw him earlier this morning and said we needed to talk, so he knows it's gonna happen." Chewing on his lip for a moment, he stared forward at the stared ahead at the white, unlit pillar candle on the coffee table. "I guess I'll gather him up now. I can go to Denise first, let her know we wanna bring Tristan around tomorrow to make use of her psychiatry skills. I won't go into it with her right yet. We can do that tomorrow when we show up, before she sits down to talk to him so she knows what she's gotta help him with."

"Two birds, one stone."

"Huh?"

Georgie shrugged. "Giving Denise a heads up while also gathering up Morgan. Two things at the same time: killing two birds with one stone."

Rick nodded when he got her meaning. "Oh, yeah, I guess." Leaning back forward, he placed one hand on his left knee and his other hand on her left thigh. "Why don't you head back to the main house, check on the kids, see if Carol's back and if Michonne's out of the shower and ready for this sit down with Morgan. I'll be back with him in a bit."

"Alright," Georgie nodded.

Pushing up off the couch, she turned and waited until he did the same. Putting on a brave face for returning home to look upon her son with the new insight into the boy he had unfortunately become, or was still in the process of becoming, she inhaled and then exhaled a steady breath. She leaned forward half a second later and stood somewhat up on tiptoe to give Rick a chaste kiss.

Neither said a thing.

Goodbyes were unnecessary. He wasn't be gone more than fifteen minutes, tops. They'd see each other again soon enough.

As they exited the house together, and after descending the stairs down from the front porch, Rick and Georgie took pause to look at each other with encouraging, albeit somewhat somber, smiles.

Rick then turned left, and Georgie went right.

* * *

It was two birds and one stone, alright.

On his way up the road to the Infirmary to talk first to Denise, Rick had found Morgan there on the porch talking to her about something. It was after Rick had told him it was time for their talk and sent the other man on ahead of him that Rick had taken a brief moment to tell Denise they'd need her psychiatric services the follow morning for Tristan. He didn't go into the details, as he'd told Georgie he wouldn't; only that Tristan had done some things and has been dealing with everything in some concerning ways they'd need her assistance on helping him with. Denise was much obliged, possibly because she was just happy for a non-medical emergency to handle and go back to what she felt most comfortable with.

When Rick walked back into the main house a few minutes later, he found Carol standing by the kitchen island with her arms crossed over her chest, looking sternly in Morgan's direction. Morgan was seated at the dining table, his back to the wall, facing out toward the living room as Michonne sat kitty-corner in a somewhat lackadaisical position whereas Georgie, who was sitting across the table from Morgan, sat upright as if a Catholic school nun would crack a wooden ruler across her knuckles if she wasn't. Rick chalked her posture up mostly to the conversation they'd finished at the blue house and that it had her fairly tense. If her posture wasn't what convinced him she was tense, it was the way her eyes seemed distant and the way her eyebrows were knitted together signifying something was on her mind.

When he shut the door behind him, all three women and Morgan snapped out of their respective, silent contemplations and looked his way instead as Rick walked over toward the empty chair to the left of Georgie. As he pulled it out to sit down, he threw a look over in Carol's direction; wordlessly asking her to come sit down as well. Once she had taken the seat at the other end of the table, kitty-corner to Rick, Rick tapped his fingers on the wooden surface in front of him and slouched a little.

No one said anything at first, mostly because they figured Rick would be the one to start the conversation. Morgan looked around the table, appearing mostly unbothered, although did seem to be a part of him that was nervous.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked when the silence continued for a moment longer than it probably should.

"When we were coming back," Rick began, leaning forward slightly on the table and gesturing between himself and Georgie, "We tried to cut off the herd with the RV; lead the walkers away. But five of those people with the W's on their foreheads, they stopped us. They tried to kill us, shot up the RV." Rick licked his lips and pointed across the table at Morgan. "Now Carol said she saw you; that you wouldn't kill those people."

"Did you let any of them go?" Carol asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, I did," Morgan admitted. "I didn't want to kill five people I didn't have to kill."

"That you didn't _have_ _to_ _kill_?" Georgie repeated, her hands balling into fists under the table as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"They burned people alive!" Carol snapped, leaning forward.

"Yeah," he acknowledged.

Georgie shook her head. "Those people could've been our _children_," she commented, gesturing between her and Rick. "You're saying you let _murderers_ go freely? _Vicious, psychotic murderers_ who killed so many innocent people, and you let them _walk away_?"

Morgan stared back at her, looking somewhat guilty and fighting with himself over what to say. After a moment, he cast his eyes to Georgie's left. "Why didn't you kill me, Rick; back in King County? Pulled a knife on you, I stabbed you. So why didn't you kill me? Was it 'cause I saved you after the hospital?"

"'Cause I knew who you were," Rick answered, motioning at Morgan with austerity in his voice.

"Back there I would've killed you as soon as look at you. And I tried. But you, you let me live and then I was there to help Aaron and Daryl. See, if I—if I wasn't there…if they died…maybe those Wolves wouldn't have been able to come back here."

"Well, they _did_ come here," Georgie muttered.

"I don't know what's right anymore," Morgan remarked, looking between Rick and Georgie. "'Cause I _did_ want to kill those men. I seen what they did, what they keep doing. I knew I could end it. But I also know that people can change. 'Cause everyone sitting here has. _All_ life is precious. And that idea—that idea _changed_ me. It brought me back and it keeps me living."

"I just don't think it can be that easy," Michonne commented, staring down at the table before looking up at him.

"It's _not_ easy."

"I wasn't saying—"

"I—I know," Morgan cut in, staring back at her. "And I've thought about letting that idea go. But I don't want to."

"You may have to. Things aren't as simple as four words. I don't think they ever were."

"Do you think I don't belong here?"

"Making it _now_: you really think you can do that without getting blood on your hands?" Rick questioned.

Morgan shook his head, answering honestly, "I don't know."

Licking her bottom lip, Georgie moved her gaze away from Morgan for a moment and looked briefly at Rick's profile. Both men seemed conflicted for their own reasons. Rick, like the rest of their people, understood that killing bad people was a necessary evil to protect loved ones and keep people safe, but Morgan's moral high horse wasn't allowing him to do what needed to be done. That could and would make him more of a liability in the long run.

At least, in Georgie's eyes it did.

Actually, judging by the way Carol was glowering at Morgan with a critical eye, the older woman felt the same as Georgie.

Rick, who had known Morgan since the beginning, was clearly having a time of it, trying to figure out what would need to be done, but whatever his decision would be, Georgie would trust him and support him, even if she thought something different should be done.

"You might not know now," Georgie spoke back up, casting her eyes upon him once again, "but you're gonna have to come to a decision one way or the other sooner, rather than later. There are always going to be people like those Wolves. There are always going to be people who'd rather kill us without caring to befriend us, who don't want to change. That day's gonna come whether you like it or not, and if you put one more of our people at risk because you won't do what needs to be done, I'll kill you myself."

Standing up abruptly, the chair Georgie was sitting in almost fell backward but she was able to grab onto it in time before shoving it roughly against the edge of the table.

Georgie was angry, for good reason, and for so many reasons.

Sitting there, listening to Morgan's kumbaya bullshit made her blood boil.

Knowing the kids to be alright upstairs, having checked on them upon returning home after her conversation with Rick in the blue house, she threw open the front door and stormed out onto the porch. She didn't bother slamming the door behind her, as much as she would've loved to, knowing any commotion could rile up the walkers outside the walls.

She needed to just be outside, away from that man who was angering her, and find some peace of mind, even if only for a few minutes before she had to worry about everything else going wrong.

When she heard footsteps moments later, Georgie was certain it was Rick following after her. Gripping the railing, she turned her head, only to find it was instead Michonne.

"It's a nice day, all things considered," Michonne remarked, looking upward at the virtually cloudless sky.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not really in the mood for small talk."

With a sigh, Michonne gripped the railing as well and looked down. "I think he means well; Morgan, that is. He's not used to being with people. He hasn't had to do what we've had to do. I think, in time, he'll come around. At least, maybe, find some middle ground."

"I wish I could be more optimistic about him like you." Georgie shook her head. "I just don't see how he'll come around to doing what needs to be done. He had his chance yesterday. Who's to say he won't drop the ball again tomorrow? I mean, yesterday we were lucky it was none of our group—our _family_—that was killed. Tomorrow, on the other hand, that luck might run out, and if he contributes to any of those deaths, be it directly or indirectly, I will have steal your katana and cut off his head." Turning to eye Michonne, she held the other woman's gaze with firmness to it. "I will not lose the people I care about, that I love, because some dipshit decided to appoint himself the new Dalai Lama."

Michonne smirked. "I can understand his way of thinking, even if I don't necessarily agree with it. I can respect it, but I don't have to like it."

"Yeah, well, his way of thinking is stupid."

The porch flooring creaked slightly, causing both women to turn to see Morgan walking out the front door with Rick mere paces behind him. The former gave the women a solemn nod of his head before heading down the front steps and turning to walk up the sidewalk, and up the road.

"You think he heard me say that?"

Michonne shrugged. "Probably."

"Good." George stood more upright as she let her gaze settle upon Rick, who came to stand on the other side of her. "Sorry I stormed out like that," she muttered, more to him.

Rick shrugged, leaning forward to rest his forearms upon the railing. "You did what I was feeling like doing. Plus, we got a lot on our plates and Morgan's ways are just adding to it." He sighed and looked around Georgie to Michonne and then down to the ground below. "I wanna give him the benefit of the doubt. He's just not making it easy."

"I think we'll be okay where he's concerned for the time being," Michonne spoke, tapping her fingers along the railing's smooth surface. "We got bigger fish to fry right now, namely our uninvited guests clawing at our walls and the whereabouts of our friends."

Georgie nodded and cast Rick a look that he caught. "Among other things," she added, knowing he understood she meant Tristan and the talk they'd have with him. "Glenn and the others, if they're alive, they can hold their own. Hell, they could be close by and they've probably found someplace safe to ride it out. What's important is doing something about those walkers, first and foremost."

"If we can somehow get outside the walls, get back to our cars at the quarry, we could use them to draw them away," Rick suggested.

"We'll set up more watch points. Coordinate the shooting of guns and flares so we could pull them out in even directions," Michonne added.

Nodding, Rick agreed. "We'd need to get all our people on it: us three, Carl, Tara, Rosita, Carol."

"What about everybody else?"

"What about 'em?" Georgie wondered.

"Well, let's just keep this to our own for now," Rick insisted, standing upright and turning to face both women.

Michonne knitted her brow together. "Really?"

"Look, if we had the time to bring the people along, sure. But we haven't had a chance to catch our breath."

"_Really_?" Michonne practically rolled her eyes as she sighed. "We're in here _together_. We're catching our breath _right_ _now_. Anything else is just excuses."

Letting out her own sigh, Georgie stood upright as well, leaning her lower back up against the railing as she folded her arms across her chest. Before she could add any further two cents to the conversation, Rick turned his head and nodded at someone approaching.

"Deanna."

"Rick."

Michonne and Georgie both turned to also greet Alexandria's figurehead.

"What's that?" Rick asked, glancing down at a large roll of paper in the older woman's hand.

"Plans for the expansion," Deanna smiled; something no one had seen since before Reg died.

Absentmindedly placing his left hand on his holstered Colt, Rick turned and looked up the street. "We got a few other things on our plate right now."

"I know," Deanna acknowledged, still smiling as if it were Christmas morning, as she handed the plans off to Michonne. "These are for what Alexandria can be after this. Because one way or another, there's gonna be an after this."

She stared at Rick and the two younger women, and they stared back at her, watching as she left them with those words and walked down off the porch and back up the street from the direction she'd come. Michonne glance down at the rolled up plans in her hands and began to unravel it; holding the paper out wide to glance down at everything drawn and written down upon it.

"Dolor hic tibi proderit olim?" Georgie read as she looked over Michonne's shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"No idea."

Feeling a hand on her lower back, Georgie looked up and over to her left and right up into Rick's face as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"We should talk to Tristan now while we have a moment."

Georgie nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"If you'll excuse us, Michonne," Rick broached. "Georgie and I got some parenting to do."

"Carl in trouble?" the resident samurai quipped with a raise of her eyebrow.

"Nah, Carl's fine."

Michonne nodded. "Judith took the car out without asking again, didn't she?"

Despite the general mood, both Rick and Georgie smiled. "If only it were as simple and as innocent at that."

* * *

Georgie and Rick were surprised by how well the conversation with her son had gone. They found him alone in the boys' room, playing with some action figures on the floor, and asked him to take a seat on one of the twin beds while they sat down together on the second twin bed. They gently eased into letting him know they knew the truth about what happened to Melissa and the thoughts he'd been having in regard to death, and about his drawings. Initially the boy clammed up and began to fidget, but they assured him he wasn't in trouble, but that they were concerned and worried he might do the wrong thing. They let him know they wanted him to understand the things he was thinking and maybe wanting to do were wrong, but that they wanted to help him get better. They knew he'd seen a lot of terrible things, but those things were not to be mimicked.

When Georgie asked her son if he wanted to tell them anything about what he was feelings or if he had anything in general about it all to say, Tristan shook his head and cast his eyes down to the ground with a pout on his lips. He said he was sorry he had done bad things, but that he also didn't want to talk about it. When they informed him he would have to talk about it, and that they were going to have Dr. Cloyd talk to him in the morning, he seemed to accept it.

The conversation came to a close soon enough and to ease the tension, as well as diffuse the tears forming at Tristan's eyes, Georgie pulled her son into her arms and hugged him tightly. Rick reached his arms out as well, placing one on Georgie's upper back and the other atop Tristan's head as he gave the child a kiss before doing the same to the child's mother.

Satisfied that their talk with Tristan had gone well, the two adults left Tristan alone to resume playing. Before they retreated downstairs, they had to pass Judith's room. Knocking on the ajar door with the knuckles of his left hand, Rick poked his head in, gripping the door knob to open the door wider so that Georgie could peer inside as well. On the floor sat Carl with his sister on his lap, building a tower of blocks and then knocking them down to make her laughing, only to repeat the process over and over.

"So," Rick began. "I talked to Georgie, and we just got done talking briefly to Tristan about everything. Tomorrow morning we're taking him to talk to Denise, Dr. Cloyd. She was a psychiatrist and she's better equipped for these kinds of things. We think she'll be able to help him through his, uh…issues."

Carl looked up between his father and Georgie, and then nodded. "Good, I'm glad he'll be able to get help." He focused his gaze on Georgie and smiled somewhat sadly at her. "I'm sorry this kind of thing is happening. I mean, all things considered, he's still a good kid. I know he has things to work out and he could pose a risk if he doesn't work it out, but I think he'll be okay in the long run. And he loves Judy. I know he'd never hurt her 'cause he sees her as the sister he lost. I hope you're not offended by me keeping her away from him anyway for the time being."

Georgie shook her head. "I understand," she assured. "I suppose I'd do the same thing in your position."

"I'm sorry, though."

"Thank you, for bringing this to your father."

"I kinda felt like I betrayed him by telling on him, but I couldn't _not_ do it."

"It's okay," Rick insisted. "You did the right thing. Georgie had the right to know."

"Don't feel bad about tattletaling. If something doesn't feel right, you should always tell someone about it," Georgie added. As she watched Carl look down at his sister, she licked her lips and stepped inside a bit. "I'm thinking of cleaning up the blue house a bit. I'll take your sister with me and watch her if you wanna go see your friend Mikey."

"I saw him this morning."

"He might like the company again," his father urged. "Or you can help Georgie out. Bring Tristan along, keep him occupied."

Carl considered this, and nodded. "Yeah, I could do both. I could bring Tristan with me again. He seemed to like tagging along earlier."

"It's good to keep him active, involved with other people. I don't think him playing by himself is the best idea right now," Georgie admitted regretfully.

Standing up with Judith, he shifted her onto his narrow hip and looked between both adults. "Okay," he muttered and then passed his sister over to Georgie.

Welcoming the little girl into her arms, she watched the teenager as he slipped past her and Rick to head down the hall to the room he'd been sharing with Tristan. She and Rick listened as Carl asked Tristan to come along with him again, and when Tristan appeared in the doorway, looking between the two adults to wordlessly ask if it was okay to go, they nodded back at him and smile encouragingly.

"It's alright," Georgie insisted. "Go out and enjoy yourself, but listen to whatever Carl says and stay quiet. I know it's scary but we don't want the walkers outside the wall getting riled up by a lot of unnecessary noise."

"Okay, mom."

As her son stepped into the hall and walked past her and Rick, she gave him a gentle ruffle of his blonde hair and let her gaze follow both boys as they headed down the stairs. When Rick leaned his face down to kiss her shoulder, Georgie let out a sigh and caught his gaze as he was leaning back upright.

"He'll be okay," she muttered, mostly to convince herself.

"Yeah, he will," Rick agreed, giving her lower back a few soothing, circular rubs while trying to convince himself as well.

* * *

A little while later, Georgie was buzzing around the kitchen of the blue house while Judith was sitting on a blanket on the floor and playing with some plastic cups. Georgie smiled down at the girl, remembering how her own daughter used to play with her toys on the floor like that while she cleaned. Looking down at Judith now, she frowned slightly, deciding that when they had the chance to make runs outside the walls again, that they would find proper toys for Judith to play with and help her developing mind.

Carol had remained at the main house, doing her own puttering, while Michonne went out. Rick, too, headed out to work on doing what he could to secure the section of wall that was damaged from the truck plowing into it and the tower. After some time, Tobin came to assist him, but then that got interrupted by Deanna's surviving son Spencer climbing along a grappling rope over the herd and towards the decaying bell tower. Climbing up to one of the scaffolds, Rick called out for the younger man to return to safety while Tara urged him over from another scaffold where Michonne had joined her. The grappling hook began to loosen, and eventually detached from the hook, sending Spencer falling into the midst of the herd against the wall. Tara, Rick, Tobin and eventually Morgan all gathered together to help to save Spencer from the herd and pulled him back up to safety with the loose rope.

As Spencer rested on the lookout, Rick angrily tore into him for what he regarded as an idiotic attempt on getting outside the walls, but Spencer insisted that he was only trying to help; that his plan was to climb over the herd in order to reach a car to use to draw the walkers away. In response, Rick angrily ordered Spencer to consult him before acting on any plans he made in the future, but Spencer challenged him, asking if he would have listened regardless. Rick had also reprimanded Tara; shouting at her for risking her own life to help save Spencer's ass, but was met with her scowling and flipping him off.

The noise created from all that riled up the walkers outside the wall but also drew the attention of everyone inside the community. The shouts and the Tara's gunfire from taking out the walkers that had been getting to close to Spencer brought people out of their homes and onto their porches or into the street, curious to know what was going on. Georgie had put down the laundry basket of clean sheets she had pulled from the dryer and rushed over to swoop Judith up into her arms before stepping out onto the porch and looking in the direction of where the shots came from. She turned to her right and saw Carol two houses down on the main house's porch, but her attention seemed focused in another direction. When the gunfire and the shouting had ended, and there was no more commotion and no one running to say anyone was dead or injured, Georgie felt confident that what had happened was under control and withdrew back into the house with Judith on her hip.

Having brought Judith's playard to the blue house with her so the child had someplace to nap, and noting the little girl's head was bobbing and her eyes were drooping, and with the commotion having died down, Georgie decided to put Judith down for a nap. This allowed Georgie time to clean up more of the house without have to worry about whether or not Judith was crawling toward something which she would put in her mouth when Georgie's back was turned for more than five minutes.

* * *

Elsewhere amidst the commotion, the distraction allowed Tristan to slip away from Tobin's house where he had been with Carl and Mikey. While the two teen boys hurried outside with Tobin's wife and son, Tristan walked out the back door and behind the houses where he wandered over to the community's makeshift cemetery at the end of the lane. He looked around at the planks stuck in the ground with different names of the deceased written on them. Never having had the chance to come to this area before now, Tristan was looking for a specific name.

His father's.

Furrowing his brow, he felt confused. Everybody from the community got buried here, but his father's name was nowhere to be found. He knew all too well the kind of man his father was, and he didn't want to be like that. He wanted to be like Rick. However, the allure of the kind of man his father was interested him, despite how angry he felt about his father. He wanted his father to still be alive so he could kill him on his own, for hurting his mom and killing his friends. But, he remembered a time when his father wasn't like that. He remembered his father giving him piggyback rides and taking him to baseball games or out for ice cream. He missed that father. He wanted that father back and he was angry he was never gonna have that man back.

He loved his father, and he loved his mother, but his father was gone so there was nothing left to love in Tristan's eyes, and he felt bad in feeling hate for his mother for not being able to find where he was for so long. She said she looked and looked for him, that she never gave up, but it didn't change the fact that he'd still be without either of his parents. And he blamed her for his sister's death, even if he wouldn't openly admit it to her.

He loved his mother, but he hated her for letting his sister get killed.

He loved his mother, but he hated her for finding a new family in Rick, Carl and Judith.

He loved his mother, but he hated her for making him think she didn't care that his sister Avery was dead because she had Judith to be her new daughter.

Not seeing his father's grave, for just a place to maybe say goodbye for good or make sense of everything that had happened enraged Tristan. He didn't understand where his father was buried. He'd never asked and no one ever told him. He considered he should just ask his mother, or Rick, or maybe Carol. Someone had to know. Someone would tell him.

_But what if it's a secret?_ Tristan wondered, scratching at his head and looking around the little cemetery one more time to make sure he hadn't overlooked his father's grave.

_Then you'll make them tell you_, that still small voice in his mind insisted.

Tristan widened his eyes and looked around, biting his bottom lip. "How?" he spoke aloud to no one but himself.

_You know._

Nodding to himself, Tristan curled his fingers into a fist and then uncurled them. Stepping out from between the shrubbery that sectioned the cemetery off from the end of the road, the boy hurried across toward the townhouses, easing his way around with the stealth of a cat, just like he had the night of Deanna's party when he followed Carol to the pantry. And like that night, that's the same place he went to, only this time he actually went inside, slipping unnoticed by Olivia when she went to clean up a mess and that's when he found the room he was looking for.

The armory.

_This will help_.

* * *

Taking a break from cleaning, and after checking to make sure Judith was still napping, Georgie made herself a cup of tea and wandered outside onto the front porch, leaving the door open for some fresh air. She leaned against one of the columns and half sat on the railing. She was looking up the road, daydreaming a little bit with the handheld baby monitor clipped to her belt much like how Rick had his walkie-talkie clipped to his. The pit of her stomach churned with anxiety over the situation with Tristan and she tried hoping for the best. She hoped taking him to talk to Denise would do him a world of good.

She tried imagining how life would be for her son right now if the world hadn't fallen apart. He'd probably be in 4th or 5th grade now. It was hard to tell because time had been lost on her for so long. Months had slipped by without her realizing it to the point that she couldn't tell if it was April or September half the time. But she knew her son would've been happy and doing well. Avery would be alive and in either kindergarten or first grade. She would've been more of her own person by now and not a day went by that Georgie didn't mourn for the life her daughter would never get to lead, and she also mourned the loss of any opportunity to have further children of her own. She had loved being pregnant both times and with Rick she would've loved to be able to have a child with him in the future, once they got a handle on this world and made it safe enough, or as safe as it was gonna get. That chance would never come, and as they had agreed the night of Deanna's party when they'd snuck off together, their three would be enough, and hell if they weren't a handful. But it was a good handful. Any parent in their right mind would agree that raising children was the hardest job in the world, but it was also the best job and there were no regrets.

As if on cue, a short and blonde figure came walking up the road toward the intersection with a bit of a skip in his step.

It was Tristan and she smiled, not concerned that he had gone off on his own to return home without Carl. She could see he was safe, and she didn't hear any cries of woe from anything that he might've been involved in. As she moved to stand up straight and wave him over to come over to the blue house, she watched him stop and get distracted by something near the front steps of the house that the recently deceased Erin lived in with her family. Whatever it was, Georgie watched as her son picked it up and put it in his hands and then stepped away to carry it with him as he approached the house.

"What do you have there?" she inquired.

"It's a dead crow," he beamed, apparently proud with his find.

"Ew, Tristan take that in the garage and throw it in the garbage can and then wash your hands with soap."

"But it's cool," he insisted. "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

Georgie chuckled. "Where did you ever hear that from?"

His smile fading, Tristan looked up at his mother and glared at her. "Dad."

Without another word, he walked toward the back of the house, leaving Georgie with an uneasy chill running up her spine.

_Oh, stop it_, she admonished herself. _He's your son and he's only nine years old._

Shaking any negative thoughts that began creeping up into her mind away, Georgie looked forward again and then her eyes widened at the sight of several green balloons floating across the sky.

"Glenn," she muttered, happiness and hope entering her voice and heart.

She let out a laugh of relief, convinced it had to be her friend. It only made sense that it was him, and that was the sign he was giving them all inside of Alexandria to know he was alive.

That relief was short lived, though.

The balloons were passing by the same direction of the tower, which was now swaying way too much to be any less of a concern. The cracking sound of the wooden structure echoed throughout the community, followed by shouts of panic from those nearest the wall below the tower. Georgie saw several people begin to scatter, to get out of the way as the entire tower fell forward, crashing into the wall and taking that section down with it.

Georgie, out of instinct, cried out in shock.

Rick came to mind first, because she knew that was the section he had said he was going to work on. She was no woman of faith but she prayed he was alright.

As the dust began to settle, she noticed Tristan running along the side of the house, having also heard the tower fall.

"Mom!" he called out to her.

"It's alri—oh God…" Her heart jumping into her chest, Georgie ran down from the porch and over to Tristan to grab his arm. "Get in the house! Get in the house!"

"Mom, what's happening?" he asked nervously.

"The tower fell, and so did part of the wall. Get in the house."

"What's happening, what's happening, mom?"

"Walkers, baby," she muttered, grabbing both his arms and crouching to his level to look him in the eye. "Get inside the house."

Nodding obediently, Tristan darted up the front steps and ran inside the house as Georgie turned back toward the direction of the fallen tower. Running closer toward the intersection to get a better look, some of their worst fears were becoming realized for this community.

The tower had fallen, taking out the wall in the process.

The walkers were coming inside.

All of them.

A shaky breath escaped Georgie's lips. "Two birds. One stone."


	30. Moths To A Flame

**Author's Note: I know it's been almost a month since the last update, but it should be easier now to be more consistent with the second half of season 6 starting airing now. Won't say anything else other than: ENJOY! As always, please R&amp;R!**

**_\- Holly, xoxo_**

* * *

_"__I've looked that old scoundrel death in the eye many times but this time I think he has me on the ropes."_— Douglas MacArthur

* * *

"Everyone—get back! Get into your houses! Go!" Rick could be heard shouting, his bellowing voice carrying on the breeze, followed by several shots from his Colt Python.

Panic and fear was now reigning supreme within Alexandria as walkers poured into the streets from the downed section of wall. With the dust created from the fallen tower settling, Georgie could finally distinguish between the bodies of the living and the dead as everyone began to scatter to find safety. Several more gunshots echoed in the air, from others aside from Rick.

"Mom!"

Georgie whipped her head around to see her son standing on the front porch, gripping the railing and looking with wide eyes toward the chaos. "Tristan, get in the goddamned house!" she growled out at him. "I will _not_ tell you again!"

Watching as her son went stock still from how she barked at him, she couldn't be worried about his feelings at the moment. She could only take relief when he finally obeyed and returned back inside where she needed him to be. Turning back around, as walkers got closer to the intersection where she was, she spotted Carl, Gabriel, and Rick and Michonne carrying an injured Deanna from the direction of the gazebo; all five coming together to find safety together. In the distance, she could just barely make out Maggie attempting to ascend a latter onto one of the lookout platforms and while she loved Maggie as a friend and part of her family, there was nothing Georgie could do from where she was and could only worry about her more _immediate_ family, who were making their way toward her direction.

As walkers got into the way of the approaching fivesome, Georgie removed her gun from her back pocket, raised it and aimed. She fired at four walkers, managing only to get headshots into three; her aim decent despite her hands slightly shaking from the tenseness of the situation.

"C'mon!" she shouted to them. "In the house!"

"Where's Judith?" Rick asked frantically.

"I have her," Georgie assured, leading the way up into the blue house.

As soon as they were all inside and the door was shut, Georgie ran around to pull the curtains closed in the living room and then ushered Rick and Michonne upstairs where they could lay Deanna down on the bed in the room she had slept in while Jake was alive. Tristan stood in the kitchen the entire time, listening to the sound of footsteps pounding heavily and hastily up the stairs and upon the floorboards up above while Gabriel stood nearby to stay with the boy. Carl, meanwhile, darted around the main floor to check to make sure all curtains and blinds were closed and all doors were locked.

It was such a flurry of activity inside the house as Deanna was secured in a daybed in the upstairs study and Rick went to check on Judith who had been napping in her playard in Jake's old room. Content in knowing his daughter was okay, Rick and Georgie passed each other in the hallway. She was leaving her old room after giving Michonne some medical supplies to treat Deanna's wounds as the couple took half a second to inspect each other for any wounds of their own. Seeing nothing to cause worry between them, they gave a nod of relief toward one another before going separate ways for the moment; Rick to return to check on Deanna and Georgie to head back downstairs to check on Tristan and Carl and the overall security of the house's main floor.

Less than twenty minutes later, while everyone was hunkering down inside the house, Georgie ducked into Jake's old room which had the best view of most of Alexandria. She stood there, pushing the curtain aside as she peered out with utter dejection; worried about if everyone else had found safety and how long they could hole up with all those walkers freely wandering the streets.

"Deanna's been bit," Rick muttered softly as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He cast a look down at Judith sitting up in her playard before walking over toward the window to stand beside Georgie. "Fever's setting in. She doesn't have long. I'm assuming she knows what's gonna happen; that she's gonna change if she's not, you know, taken care of immediately afterward."

Georgie looked at him, closing he curtains and nodding sadly. "Deanna's a smart lady. This community might've been closed off for too long, but I've no doubt she's seen enough to know how it works."

"She's cracking jokes," Rick smirked, though his heart wasn't in it.

"I just…I can't believe this is happening," Georgie remarked. "I really thought the walls would hold."

"They would've," Rick replied. "They could withstand the walkers, just not a falling tower. We didn't realize how weakened it had gotten from that truck running into it. This is what happens…this is what happens when we let our guard down. I should've done something more…kept a better eye on…everything…"

Lifting a hand to his face, Georgie shook her head. "Don't you start that shit," she gently admonished as he looked her sadly in the eye. "Don't you _dare_ start putting the blame on yourself. What happened, happened. There's no way around it. We just gotta wait it out."

Rick nodded. "There's enough food here to last us a while in here. I checked the fridge, the cupboards. We'll be okay, I think."

"We'll stay quiet, keep the lights off," Georgie added, agreeing with him that they could be okay. "We won't draw attention to ourselves."

"The walkers…they're bound to cluster up by then, move off to one area. When they do, I'll try and get to the armory...draw them away."

"Alone?"

"Yeah."

Georgie wasn't too pleased with that idea. "How're you gonna do that? With guns?"

"Flares," he answered. "I'll open the gate, fire 'em off; see if I get them somewhere…somewhere that's not here."

"I'm not overly keen on the idea of you doing it alone."

"Well, I can't take you with me, as much as I love having you at my side. This isn't one of those times I can risk it. I need you here this time, for our kids, because if something happens to me, they'll need you."

"Alright, maybe not me. But not alone. Please. Not alone."

Georgie's heart was racing at the thought of losing him and it showed on her face and in her eyes as she brought her hands up to rest upon Rick's blood-stained white shirt. She licked at her bottom lip before biting down nervously on it. Taking half a step closer, Rick lowered his forehead to press against hers; emitting a slight sigh.

"Okay," he whispered, taking her worry to heart. "I won't go alone." As a small smirk reached the corners of his lips, he added, "I could take Gabriel, use him as a human shield. He has yet to prove to me he'd be good for anything else."

Despite the callousness of the remark, Georgie couldn't help but allow herself to smile at it. "I think I'd be okay with that," she quipped, leaning closer toward him.

Slowly and softly, Rick brought his hands to Georgie's hips and gripped the belt loops of her jeans tightly with his index fingers to pull her body against his. Without a word, he tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips upon hers; finding solace in the way she reciprocated the gesture and lifted her hands up to cup the sides of his face.

The kiss didn't last long, but it was lovely regardless. _Every_ kiss between them was lovely.

When Rick pulled back, he was looking at Georgie with tears brimming his lower eyelids; failing somewhat to maintain a steely resolve in such a trying time. His nerves were just so wracked from everything at the moment and he tried finding comfort in her gaze, which_ did_ help to an extent.

"I love you so much," he whispered, releasing a shaky sigh.

"I love you, too, baby," she replied, brushing her thumbs against his stubbly cheeks.

"I will fight till my dying breath to keep you and our kids safe."

"I know."

"I won't let anything happen to you or our kids."

Georgie smiled and nodded adamantly. "I know you won't. You just gotta promise nothing will happen to you, either."

Not saying anything, Rick just nodded, brought a hand to the back of Georgie's head and pulled her face closer so he could kiss her forehead. "I promise," he muttered quietly.

* * *

In the odd downtime that had befallen the group inside the blue house, Georgie took to feeding Judith a bottle while Rick went to speak with Michonne about Deanna and what they would do with her when the time came. Father Gabriel had made his way upstairs at all, taking a quiet moment to pray or whatever in Tristan's old room for a little while and Carl had taken it upon himself to keep Tristan occupied.

As she set Judith back down into the playard in Jake's old room, Georgie closed the door behind her and made her way down the hall to peer inside the study to see Deanna still lying on the daybed staring up at the ceiling as Michonne spoke quietly to her. Rick wasn't anywhere to be seen, causing Georgie to peer into the other room; interrupting Gabriel in a moment of prayer or whatever.

"Sorry," she muttered lamely.

He merely shook his head and shrugged. "Don't be."

Georgie hesitated from moving, keeping her hand on the doorknob. "Are you doing okay? Do you want a water bottle or something?"

Gabriel smirked, seeming almost amused. "I don't feel like I deserve a water bottle."

"Save the pity party for some other time, okay?" She twisted the doorknob slightly and looked out into the hall. "I wasn't going to get it for you. I was just going to tell you to help yourself. There's a few bottles in the fridge."

Without another word, Georgie stepped away from the room, leaving the door open as she began to head toward the stairs just as she heard the sounds of metal clattering from downstairs and muffled shouts. Tearing down the stairs like a bat out of hell, she was met by Rick at the bottom as he ran at the garage door and began banging on it and struggling to open it.

"Carl!" Rick shouted as Georgie joined him at his side.

Looking over her shoulder and not immediately seeing her own son, and knowing Carl had been keeping an eye on Tristan, Georgie was able to assume both boys were in the garage together.

"Tristan!" she cried out, mirroring Rick's panic as the sound of glass shattering echoed from within the garage, along with the snarling of walkers.

"Carl! Let me in! Carl, open the door!"

"Tristan, open the door right now!"

Taking a step back, Rick removed the hatchet from his belt and pushed Georgie aside about two feet. "Back up," he warned.

Raising his arm he began to hack at the deadbolt as well as the doorknob. The muscles in his arms and shoulders ached with the force in which he struck downward and the relief he felt in being able to get the door open was enough to give him contentment. He'd worry about everything else as soon as he got their boys back into the house, to safety.

"Come on!" he called out to the boys, who scattered in from the garage like bats out of hell, almost tripping over their own two feet in the process.

Walkers were surprisingly quick to reach the door and since it no longer could be locked or close on its own, Rick had to lean his body weight against it with the assistance of Georgie. The undead bodies pushing back from the other side of the door was proving difficult, but Carl came up between the adults to help while Tristan stumbled back and squatted down near the bottom of the stairs. Michonne came trampling down in a flurry, her dark eyes wide with concern and Gabriel was right behind her. And, surprisingly, he was the one to join Rick in grabbing the couch from the living room and tipping it up against the door as a door as a makeshift barricade. The couch only did so much though, and only because Rick, Gabriel and Carl were pushing against it.

"We need more, and we need to be more quiet," Rick advised through gritted teeth.

"I'll see what I can find," Michonne commented, disappearing toward the front of the house.

Gabriel lifted off the couch, "Me, too," Gabriel insisted.

"I got it," Georgie remarked, taking the spot on the other side of Carl, pushing against the couch with all the strength she could muster.

"Hey—hey, what happened in there?" Rick demanded of his son. "We heard yelling."

Carl looked between his father and Georgie and then subtly over his shoulder toward Tristan. Tipping his face forward, he whispered, "He was mad I told you two about what he told me. He threw a hammer at me, but he missed; broke a window instead."

Georgie's eyes widened from embarrassment over her son's actions. She threw a look of disappointment over her shoulder toward Tristan who was looking down at his fingers. Returning her gaze toward Carl and Rick, she found the latter staring back at her with frustration.

"I'm sorry about that, Carl," she apologized on behalf of her son.

"It's okay," the teen insisted.

"No, it's not."

"How come the door was locked?" Rick asked.

"He locked it," Carl whispered.

Georgie dipped her own head, shaking it in her own frustration over…everything. "Tristan, go upstairs to your room and stay there, do you understand?" she bit out. "Shut the door and stay put."

Without a word, Tristan stood up off the bottom stair and ran up to the second floor. Moments later, a door slammed.

"I'm sorry," Carl remarked.

"Why are you sorry?" Rick questioned, confused.

"I was supposed to keep a better eye on him. I went to take a look out one of the front windows to see what the walkers outside were doing and he darted in her," Carl nodded in the garage's direction.

"It's not your job to keep an eye on him," Georgie assured. "He's my son. This is on me."

"No," Rick shook his head. "Don't put this on yourself; either of you. This is him, unfortunately. This is just him. We'll deal with it, with him, as soon as we get all this taken care of."

Rick looked over his son's head at Georgie; the pair locking concerned eyes with each other as Michonne and Gabriel came walking over, dragging nightstands from the downstairs extra bedroom with him to brace the couch with. Once that was secured, the trio stepped back and moved toward the living room. They could all see silhouettes of walkers on the porch from behind the curtains covering the windows. Michonne peered outside briefly alongside Gabriel.

"The noise from the garage—it drew more," Michonne remarked, "which is drawing even more off the street _because_ there's more."

Rick placed his hands on his hips and hung his head with a sigh. Georgie looked back at him as Carl darted beside Michonne to get a glimpse out the window as well. Up above, the sound of Judith crying began to carrying all the way downstairs so Rick took his leave, informing the other's he'd go get her. The others went about making sure all the doors were not only locked, but barricaded with bulky pieces of furniture, like the kitchen table, a desk, the box spring off the downstairs bedroom's bed.

After a while, though, none of it was holding anymore.

As the weight of the walkers on the other side of the front door began to push the door inward, the others attempted to push back.

"Rick!" Georgie cried out, calling nervously for him.

A few moments later, he whipped down the stairs and turned into the kitchen, nearly tripping over his own two feet in the process before darting across the living room to assist with keeping the box spring in its position against the front door.

"There's just too many of them," Gabriel grunted, pressing his weight against the box spring.

As walkers began to push through a poorly barricaded door in the breakfast nook beside the kitchen, Michonne withdrew her katana from the scabbard on her back and barked, "Everybody, get upstairs now!"

As the other released their hold on the front door barricade, Michonne slice-n-diced several of the approaching walkers as Georgie, grabbed at Carl's sleeve to pull him back toward the stairs alongside Gabriel, while Rick helped Michonne keep any offending walkers at bay. When the latter pair reached the stairs, themselves, they gripped the couch that had been barricading the garage door and pulled it away to create a new barrier at the base of the stairs to prevent any walkers from getting up to the second floor.

Georgie was already at the top of the stairs, waiting with Carl while Gabriel had gone into the study to take a seat on the daybed Deanna no longer occupied. She didn't know where the dying woman was, or if she was even still alive, but she was certain Rick had that all squared away, either way it went. As she waited with bated breath, Carl withdrew his own gun both spotted Rick and Michonne dragging to dead walkers up the stairs.

Looking at his son, Rick gave a nod. "You stay here. You see anyone squeezing through, you get me."

"Okay," Carl agreed, keeping watch at the top of the stairs.

Rick continued onward, panting, as he dragged the walker in her arms through the upstairs hallway behind Michonne and set it down on the floor of the study.

"We're gonna need bed sheets, enough for everyone," Rick advised as Gabriel ducked out of the room in search of the sheets.

"Bed sheets for what?" Georgie asked, curiously, standing outside the study as Rick looked back at her.

"We all go to the armory."

"Are we creating a diversion somehow? I'm sure there's some hard liquor Jake had stored away in this house. We could make a few Molotov cocktails to throw. Stuff the bottles with strips of material from the sheets, maybe?"

"As creative an idea as that is, babe: no." Rick shook his head and gestured to the two dead walkers lying side by side on the floor. "We're gonna gut these things. Cover ourselves with the insides. It'll mask our smell; make them think we're like them," he explained, rubbing at his nose with the back of his bandaged hand. "I've done it before. We stay calm, we don't draw attention, we can move right through them."

Georgie nodded. "Carol and I did it before, too. At Terminus."

"So you can see how this will work." It was a statement, not a question, but he looked at her as if expecting her to confirm she understood regardless.

Nodding again, Georgie stepped into the room. "Yeah, it'll work."

"They're in the house, they're making noise," Michonne muttered, stabbing her katana down into the gut of the walker closest to her. "More are coming."

Gabriel returned with the sheets at the very moment Rick and Michonne were pulling the innards out of the bodies and he turned his face as if he was going to vomit. Rick looked up to see the reaction and the doubt on the preacher's face.

"Anyone who stays here is going to die," the former sheriff's deputy insisted.

"What about Deanna?" Gabriel questioned, holding the sheets up to his face to block the putrid scent while he could.

"Deanna was bit," Georgie commented. "She doesn't have much longer. Bringing her with us won't buy her more time and she'll just slow us down. She's gonna have to stay here."

Rick caught her eye and nodded in agreement, but then returned his attention to gutting open his walker.

"Where is she, by the way?" Gabriel inquired.

"In the room at the end of the hall, where Judith was earlier," Rick replied. "Deanna had gotten up from in here and gone to see Judith, but her legs gave out. I set her down in the bed there, moved Judith to the room next door to keep her safe. I couldn't leave Deanna alone with my daughter. Not now, not when she could…"

The end of his thought went unsaid, but everyone understood he meant to say that if Deanna had died and reanimated while everyone else was downstairs, she could've attacked Judith. It wasn't safe to leave Judith alone with Deanna anymore.

A short while later, Georgie had grabbed some scissors off the study's desk and cut holes in the middle of all the sheets for where everyone's heads would go through. She pulled one over her head and then passed out the rest to Gabriel, Rick and Carl. When Michonne returned from saying her goodbyes to Deanna, she took a sheet as well. Rick began the nauseating process of lathering his son with blood and guts while Georgie exited the room and opened up the door to Tristan's room.

There, on the floor, her son sat on his old bed, staring up at her as soon as she entered the room.

"Tristan, you can come out now."

"Am I done being punished?"

"You're not being punished," she assured. "What you did in the garage was wrong and you do owe Carl an apology, but that can wait. Right now we need to leave this house." Holding out her hand to her son, she waited for him to stand up and take it. "We gotta disguise ourselves from the walkers, though."

"How?"

Georgie beckoned to him with the curl of her index finger and then nodded toward the study across the hall. As Tristan stood up, he peered into the other room with curiosity and Georgie was almost certain she saw a smile of amusement on his face.

"It smells," the boy grimaced.

"Tell me about it," Carl muttered with a slight smile to show his surrogate brother he held no hard feelings for earlier.

Georgie led Tristan into the study and took the last sheet; placing it over her son's head and then crouching down to lather the blood and guts all over him while Rick did the same for her. Despite what was being spread across the sheet covering her upper half, she took considerable comfort in Rick's strong hands moving along her back and shoulders to make sure she was thoroughly covered. Georgie managed to take care of her own front while sharing a nervous look with the man she loved.

No part of the walkers insides were left untouched. They used every bit they could, including flaps of decayed skin and the internal organs; draping it on their shoulders and sticking it upon each other's fronts and backs.

"We gotta move," Rick informed.

"Tris," Georgie spoke, turning toward her son. "When we get downstairs and when we go outside, you need to be silent. You can't make any noise, okay? Do you understand?"

Rick hesitated in what he was doing, and it seemed as if the others did to, as they waited for the boy's response.

Tristan nodded adamantly. "I'll be quiet."

Georgie released a shaky, but relieved sigh. She believed with all her heart that her son could be okay, and that as soon as they got through this literal mess, she and Rick could pick back up where they planned on getting Tristan the help he needed to work through the issues he had. She just hoped that Denise was alive and safe, wherever she was. Whether or not the medical professional could help Tristan or not, she was still the community's only doctor now and therefore they'd need her regardless.

Gripping Tristan's shoulders, she stood up and leaned down to place a kiss atop his head. "I love you, you know."

"I know," he assured. "I love you, too, mom."

Michonne ducked out of the study then and made her way out into the hall toward the top of the stairs. "We have to go," she whispered back to the others, who began to file out into the hallway as well.

Rick moved toward the top of the stairs, looking down over the railing and then looked back at Georgie as she stood behind Tristan, gripping his shoulders, and had Carl at her side. Gabriel still looked uneasy about everything, but was pushing his doubts and fears as far down as he could muster.

"We're ready," Georgie insisted.

Rick nodded. "I'll get Judith."

As he moved to head back down the hall, Gabriel reached out to him. "Rick, I'm not gonna give up out there. I will _not_ turn back, no matter what happens," the preacher adamantly vowed.

Rick stared the other man directly in the eye. "Yeah, I know," he nodded again, somehow believing Gabriel's words to be true. When he returned less than a minute later with his daughter in his arms, the little girl look none too pleased about the situation, as if she could sense what was about to go down.

"I got her," Georgie offered, lifting up her bloody poncho.

Locking eyes, Rick silently thanked Georgie, knowing she would protect his little girl; that she would put Judith's life before her own if it came down to it. Passing Judith off, Georgie wrapped one arm underneath the girl's bottom and the other across her back, keeping her close against her chest. Momentarily, Georgie removed the hand from Judith's back to check that she had her gun secured in her back pocket, as well as her hunting knife which she kept strapped to her leg most days. With a nod to Rick, she watched as he headed up leading everyone quietly down the stairs, one behind the other.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rick casually and quietly pushed the couch out of the way and moved carefully around it as he slipped by the first approaching walker that paused to sniff him out. Satisfied that his scent was successfully masked, Rick continued to push forward, with Georgie directly behind him carrying Judith under her poncho (and praying like crazy to a God she didn't believe existed that the little girl didn't start to cry), followed by Tristan who was gripping a finger through one of the belt loops of his mother's jeans, then Carl, Gabriel and Michonne bringing up the rear.

Stepping into the downstairs living space was rather horrifying. It was so congested with so many bodies of the undead that it was practically a miracle that their small procession made it out the front door and onto the porch where they took a momentary pause. Taking in the sight of the overrun community, with walkers everywhere on the streets, the group looked at each other as they steeled their nerves just as several gunshots rang out from one somewhere upstairs in the house.

It could only mean one thing: that the gun Deanna had to off herself in the end with she was now choosing to use to take out as many walkers as she could, and go out blazing instead.

Michonne reached for Gabriel's hand then, and he took hold of Carl's. Carl looked down, catching on, and grabbed for Tristan's hand. Tristan, still gripping the belt loop of his mother's jeans was already part of the link being created to keep everyone together. Feeling the tug on her belt look, Georgie looked down and behind her, giving her son a small smile and then noticing the others. Removing one hand from Judith, Georgie removed it from underneath her poncho and then reached for Rick's hand, entwining her fingers through his.

Rick looked at his hand in hers; both were covered in blood from the walkers they'd coated themselves with. He raised his eyes up to her face, wishing he could take a moment to kiss her and hug her and voice his belief that they could be okay, but there wasn't time for that right now. Instead, he had to say it all with a quick look and hope she understood the sentiment behind it.

And she did.

Georgie squeezed his hand briefly and gave a slight nod of her head, and then she let him lead them all down from the porch and out onto the street, as he occasionally looked back at everyone to make sure no one had gotten separated.

As they all moved silently along the road, with the sun rapidly approaching the horizon, beads of sweat rolled down their faces. Their hands had released from one another here and there to allow several walkers to move between them, as not to draw attention to themselves. Several walkers were missing large portions of their bodies due to the bites that had probably caused their deaths. Some had their insides hanging out of their outside, jaws were unhinged or missing altogether, one or two seemed like their heads were barely managing to stay on as their necks were very clearly broken. It was just an all-around tense situation the group was trying to get through.

Leading them over toward some large shrubbery on the side of the road near the lake, Rick gathered the group up and quietly addressed them without drawing unwanted attention. Carl and Michonne, while listening to what he was going to say, took it upon themselves to keep lookout for any walkers that noticed their group converged there in conversation.

"Alright, new plan," Rick began in a low voice. "Flares from a few guns aren't enough. Too many walkers, too spread out. We're not going to the armory. We need our vehicles back at the quarry. All of us drive. We'll need to round 'em up. We leave, we come back."

Georgie looked Rick in the eye and nodded. "Okay," she agreed. Then, looking down at the bump underneath her poncho that was her surrogate daughter, added with concern, "But Judith…to the quarry and back…"

Rick seemed to understand what she meant, that it was too risky to take the little girl that far, and it just wasn't the safer option. Wiping away some sweat from his face with his thumb, he looked around them, trying to work out a way around his plan that accommodated his daughter better.

"I'll take her," Gabriel spoke up. "I'll keep her safe in my church until you all lead the walkers away."

"Can you do this?" Georgie questioned.

Gabriel looked at her and nodded. "I'm supposed to. I have to." Then, to Rick, he added, "I will."

With Rick's assistance, Georgie lifted her poncho and passed Judith to the preacher who was softly shushing her when she began to whimper. Walker blood was smudged on her cheek and Georgie reached out to wipe it away.

In an afterthought, before he could step away, Georgie grabbed onto Gabriel's arm. "Take Tristan with you."

"No, mom," the boy countered. "I want to stay with you."

"Tris, it'll be safer this way. I need you to go with Father Gabriel," she insisted, leaning down more to his level.

"I was a part of stuff like this before; before Alexandria. I'm not scared, mom."

Georgie raised her brow at her son. "Well, _I _am." Casting a glance from Tristan to Rick, she let her shoulders slump. "Okay." She looked back down at Tristan and gave his hand a squeeze. "Okay."

Gabriel looked from her and then over to Rick to make sure he was still okay with him leaving with Judith. "I'm going to keep her safe," he promised.

"Thank you."

When he got the nod of assurance, the preacher looked around at the others and wrapped his arms firmly around the little girl's body under his poncho before he began the precarious trek forward along the road. None of the rest moved; too nervous to take their eyes off Gabriel's retreating form, surrounded by oblivious walkers, and wanting to make sure he got to his church with Judith in one piece.

Literally.

As he began to shake from the fear that walkers would figure something was off, attack and subsequently kill his daughter, Rick looked panic-stricken and tears began to well in his eyes until Georgie reached out and took his hand in hers.

"Hey—he's _going_ to make it," she assured. "Okay? I know it."

Allowing her voice and the touch of her hand to center him and calm his nerves enough to move forward with their impending task, Rick nodded in agreement to what she said to him and squeezed her hand tightly in place of the kiss he desperately wanted to give her. With a nod of his head toward the others, they began to link hands once again: Georgie took Tristan's hand, Tristan took Carl's, and Carl took Michonne's.

Slowly and silently they crept along the edge of the road. The sky overhead was growing darker. The sunlight effortlessly slipped below the horizon, allowing the stars to gradually become more visible. Walkers nearing the small group of five forced them to unintentionally stiffen their posture and pause in their movement to allow those walkers to move past them without incident. What would've taken less than a minute to get to the main gate felt like it was taking hours. The stop and go was making them feel more and more tense with each passing moment.

By the time they had made it just past the Millers' house and were just that much closer to the gate, Carl looked down at his hand when he noticed Tristan's had slipped from it. He let his gaze follow the younger boy's movements, curious why he'd let go now and saw him adjusting something under his poncho.

"Tristan," Carl whispered, leaning forward to get his surrogate brother's attention to make sure he was staying on task. They were so close to the exit. "Tristan, what are you doing?"

Carl could feel Michonne giving his hand a squeeze so he looked over his shoulder at her to find her giving him a look to know what was up. When he looked back ahead he could see that his father and Georgie was still slowly walking along, with Georgie still holding her son's other hand; both adults unaware as to whatever it was Tristan was doing. Not that Carl was privy to whatever it was, though. He was still just as confused…that is, until he saw the boy's arm slip out from underneath the poncho, holding something black and solid in his hand.

Carl's heart leapt out of his chest and into his throat at the sight of the handgun Tristan had; wondering how the boy had gotten it and how long he'd had it. Carl knew his father and Georgie would've never given Tristan a gun, considering his obvious issues.

"Georgie," Carl whispered in a slightly louder tone to get her attention when he saw Tristan was raising the gun upward.

Hearing her name, Georgie stopped, as did Rick when he felt the pull on his arm when he went to keep walking but that Georgie wasn't following. Both of them turned around and flinched at the sight of her so raising a gun at them. Because of how they were standing, nearly side by side, it was hard to tell exactly which of them Tristan was aiming at.

"Tristan, what are you doing?" Georgie quietly demanded; her eyes wide with fear and her nerves beginning to fray. "Put that away."

"Tristan," Rick muttered, taking a step closer and holding a hand up. "Not now. Don't do this now. Just keep moving."

"This is the monsters' world now," Tristan spoke. "Monsters kill me. My dad killed people. He was a monster." The boy shifted his aim more toward Rick. "You killed my dad. You're a monster." He then pointed directly at his mother's face. "You let Avery get killed. _You're_ a monster."

Tristan was shaking. If he fired the gun, it wouldn't be a direct hit, wherever he was aiming, but it could still be a fatal shot due to the close proximity. When Rick tried to step even closer to figuratively talk his surrogate son down off the edge, the boy switched his aim back toward him and seemed to steel his own nerves and calm down somewhat.

Georgie was shaking now, though. Walkers were starting to realize something was off. Their decaying heads tilted, alerted to the sudden movements and new sounds and began to move closer to the small group clustered together in an anxious standoff of sorts.

"I killed Melissa," Tristan continued, starting to cry. "I'm a monster."

"No. No, baby," Georgie shook her head. "You-you're just confused and scared. It's okay, though. Just…just put the gun down."

"Tristan, _please_," Carl pleaded, eyeing the walkers that were catching on to their elevated situation. "We gotta _move_. They _hear_ us."

"We're all monsters. Monsters are bad. Monsters should be alive. They're supposed to be in stories," Tristan whimpered.

And like that, Tristan's scared little face went blank as an unnerving sense of calm seemed to wash over him. Holding his gun with a sturdier arm, he aimed at either Rick or Georgie.

Carl couldn't tell.

The second the teen saw the boy was going to pull the trigger, Carl grabbed at the back of Tristan's poncho and pulled him back. The gun still went off and Georgie cried out in pain. Thanks to Carl's quick thinking, the bullet only struck her shoulder, most likely missing anything vital. Rick let out a cry of fear, initially thinking she'd been fatally hit, and as he pulled her back up to her feet, as her own blood was now soaking into her poncho, but with all the walker blood and guts covering her, it was impossible to differentiate. The pain from the bullet felt like searing hot fire. However, adrenaline kept her upright and kept her going.

As she and Rick both looked at her son, and as Rick was about to make a move to grab for the gun, walkers descended onto Tristan, one on each side of him; biting into his shoulder and the side of his face, respectively. When the boy screamed out in pain, he instinctively pulled the trigger of his gun again, firing off a wayward shot as he was starting to get pulled apart by dead teeth and dead hands.

Rick stopped, too stunned at the moment to move. His chin quivered and tears began rolling down his face at the horrible scene playing out before his eyes. Even Michonne who was usually quick to action was frozen in her spot for the moment, trying to process what was happening.

Georgie, on the other hand, suddenly went numb.

It was like she was watching a very terrible movie, or having one of those out of body experiences, which allowed her to find a way to remove herself emotionally from the situation.

Watching as her son got pulled slowly down to the ground so the walkers could properly devour him, Georgie slipped her right hand under her poncho and removed her own gun. Without missing a beat, she removed the safety, and fired two shots: one into the head of the walker blocking her view of her son's face, and then one into Tristan's forehead to allow him to stop feeling pain and prevent him from coming back later.

After that, though, Georgie went stock still.

"Dad?"

Carl's voice cut into the muffled noise in Georgie's head. She turned and followed Rick's gaze away from her own son to look over to see Carl looking back at them with a bloody, shredded wound where his right eye was supposed to be. Fresh blood was streaking down his he dropped down to the pavement like a sack of coal.

"C-Carl, no," Rick whimpered, his world suddenly breaking and falling apart.

"Georgie," Michonne grabbed at her fellow woman's hand and yanked her forward just as Rick dropped to his knees and hoisted Carl up into his arms.

Sensing the seriousness, Georgie allowed herself to be pulled forward as Michonne used her katana to slice at approaching walkers. Quickly enough, the ginger-haired woman was able to snap out of it enough to run forward as Michonne cleared a path for them. Rick brought up the rear, his possibly dead or dying son in his arms as they made a beeline for the infirmary. It was their only option now. The entire trek was a blur to Georgie, despite her level of alertness. The Beretta 92FS she had in her hand was capable of holding fifteen rounds of 9mm ammunition and before the two shots she'd fired, the chamber had been full, which meant she had thirteen shots left to make count before needing to rely on her hunting knife alone.

No matter how alert she appeared or seemed, though, her mind was clouded and her aim was worse than a typical bad day. If she'd cleared three head shots, that was a lot. She was forced to kick at any walkers trying to reach for her and knock them back so she could get by.

Michonne, ahead of Georgie, was panting and wild-eyed with sheer panic as she cut into anything in her way; her first and only priority to get help Rick get Carl inside the infirmary. Rick, behind Georgie, was sobbing as he ran, losing his footing every few steps as his weakened mental state messed with his agility. Georgie, breathing heavily from their collective sudden exertion, pulled the trigger on her gun once more and it just clicked. She had fired all remaining thirteen rounds, not realizing it had gone that quickly or how badly her aim was at the moment. Without thinking on it, she let her gun drop and unsheathed her hunting knife instead, feeling more at home and more satisfied to jab the longer blade deep into a few skulls.

They rounded the corner on the upper road and reached the infirmary quickly enough. Georgie and Michonne remained behind long enough to allow Rick to enter inside the building first and then Michonne moved to follow. When Georgie hesitated, the dreadlocked woman grabbed for her hand again to urge her forward.

"Georgie, c'mon."

Pulling the Georgie into the infirmary with her, Michonne slammed the door shut behind them while Rick set his son down on a gurney.

"This is a gunshot?" Denise called out.

"Handgun. Close range," Michonne replied, tensely.

"Please…please save him," Rick muttered, utterly beside himself. "Please."

A surgical light got switched on, shining down over Carl so Denise could see what she was doing and Spencer was quick to complain that the light would draw the walkers to them.

"I need light," Denise contended as Michonne pulled off her poncho and then did the same for Rick.

Stepping over toward a somewhat withdrawn Georgie, Heath mirrored Michonne, removing the redhead's poncho for her and then placing a strong hand upon her shoulder. "Georgie, you've been shot," he remarked, but his words seemed to fall upon dead ears.

"Michonne, towel; hold it here," Denise was still speaking. "Okay we need to keep pressure to the wound. I'll go in and sew up any lacerations. Just like that, right here. Now, Spencer, I need that pan. That one on the tray. Good. I'm going to clean and close this. Michonne, keep following me with the towel."

Everything Denise was saying was jumbling all together for both Rick and Georgie. There was a pounding in their heads from the loss of her son and the impending loss of his and neither seemed capable of processing their respective grief at the moment. Georgie couldn't even register the pain in her shoulder from her own gunshot wound.

Bringing his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, and then dragging his hand down his face, Rick paced for a bit; throwing the occasional look back at the team working to take care of his son. Moving toward the window beside the door, he pushed a shade aside and looked out at the darkened street at the walkers ambling around none the wiser; just doing what walkers did. Walk. Georgie was standing there behind him, in a daze and still gripping her hunting knife.

Clenching his jaw, Rick turned and looked at Georgie. In doing so, all he saw was her mercy killing her son who had tried to kill her. Looking at Georgie, all he saw was the boy's face being ripped off him by the eternally hungry undead.

Dropping his eyes down, toward her bloody hand and her bloody hunting knife, Rick removed the hatchet from his utility belt. Turning to face Georgie more fully, he locked eyes with her after a moment and they each seemed to feel as if they were staring into an abyss rather than each other's eyes. There was no emotion other than the raging sea of anger that was starting to rear its ugly head within them. He nodded down at her knife and she looked at the hatchet in his hand and nodded back at him.

Without a word, Rick pulled the infirmary door open and stalked right outside with Georgie following and slamming the door behind them, with Michonne calling nervously after them, asking what they were doing.

* * *

In true couple fashion, Rick and Georgie sauntered off the infirmary's small porch, side by side. Raising their individual weapons, they brought them down upon and into the skulls of the first walkers that approached. They chopped, stabbed, swung and sliced and impaled the affronting dead. They kicked and shoved bodies back to buy themselves some room with which to work and, in Rick's case, even tossed a body over his back. They grabbed walkers by the throats, holding them at a safe distance to use as temporary shields as they pushed their way along the road while simultaneously hacking at the faces of other walkers.

Angry, frustrated grunts escaped their lips as they snarled right back at the dead trying to bite at them. Every drop of rage, anguish and grief that was building up inside them they funneled into the task of dispatching as many walkers as they could instead of dealing with their personal traumas head on. The throbbing physical pain Georgie was feeling in her shoulder was worse, the longer she went without getting it looked at. She had no idea if the bullet was still in her or if it had gone through and through. Either way, it hurt like all hell but it was fuel for the fire that forced her onward.

Fluidly, they moved in tandem, as effortlessly in a fight for their lives as they did between the sheets. Their bodies weren't just made for each other, but also to fight alongside each other.

Blood splatter ricocheted from their blades, causing themselves to get splashed here and there but they couldn't care less how it felt or looked. They simply needed to make a dent in the crowd; to make a stand against the dead. It wasn't a badge of honor sort of thing, but the pair proudly wore that blood and viscera on their clothes, in their hair and on their skin without a second thought to it.

In what was likely only minutes, Michonne ran out of the infirmary to assist them with Heath, Aaron and Spencer in tow. As they all grouped together, they put their backs to each other, facing out in unified formation. They six of them fought side by side, hacking and hacking as the amount of undead bodies falling dead at their feet began to pile up.

"Knock 'em away! Drive 'em down!" Rick shouted, as he turned and saw both Eric and Olivia running down the stairs of a house with blades of their own in their hands to join the good fight. Just beyond those two, he could see Rosita, Eugene, Tara, Morgan, Carol, Tobin and even Gabriel coming forward in such a rallying moment that Rick forgot what had happened to his and Georgie's sons for a few moments as he was overcome by everyone joining together as one group. "We can beat 'em!"

As _one_ family.

More and more surviving Alexandrian residents came out of the woodworks with whatever weapons they had on hand. All of them together, and unrelentingly, drove the numbers down. They never stopped. They never backed down. They were determined to keep fighting until the last walkers in the streets were lying dead on the ground, and they wouldn't stop there. They would go into the homes that walkers had gotten into, and they would take those down, too.

In fact, it wouldn't be until hours later that Rick or Georgie would've overheard that one of the walkers in the blue house had been Deanna, who had apparently not spared a bullet for herself and had in fact opted to use them on the walkers coming for her.

Shots near the main gate could be heard, revealing Maggie atop the wall with none other than Enid as Glenn had appeared, trying to take out as many walkers as he could to draw them away from his wife. And, just when it seemed as if Glenn was a goner, yet again, a barrage of gunfire opened up on the walkers surrounded the younger man and he looked up to find Sasha and Abraham brandishing automatic, military-grade weaponry.

As the fight was continuing in the streets, suddenly a huge explosion erupted over the lake as fire billowed upward and outward across the surface of the water.

Taking a moment to pause, Rick saw a fuel truck parked at the lake's edge and Daryl standing atop with a rocket launcher, looking like a motherfucking badass. For the tiniest fraction of a second, Rick almost felt jealous, but he soldiered on with the task at hand as the large, bright flames flickered wildly and drew the attention of the walkers on the streets. Somehow no longer interested in the living, the light and the heat of the fire pulled the walkers away and they began to trudge forward toward the lake and into the water; several of which unceremoniously caught on fire.

Like moths to a flame.

"Don't let up!" Rick shouted.

They could use the distraction of the fire to their advantage and come at the walkers without them realizing it.

They would be successful.

They would save their community.

* * *

Hours later, as the sun began to peak up over the horizon, dark smoke wafted through the air along the streets from the fire still somewhat burning on the lake's surface. Blood and bodies of fallen walkers were scattered all over and it looked like an overall war zone.

Outside the infirmary, on the small porch, many of the Alexandrians stood around, paced or sat. Inside, Denise was stitching up a wound on Daryl's back, Glenn was bringing Maggie something to eat, and Michonne was cradling Judith in her arms while Rick sat in a chair in another room, with Carl unconscious in a bed beside him; the right side of his head bandaged up.

Across the room, on the floor and leaning against the wall, Georgie sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and resting her blood- and tearstained face in her bloodstained hands. A mere few hours before, when the last walkers had been done in, she had finally stopped moving and with the rush of adrenaline through her system dissipating, the blood loss and pain finally took hold and she promptly passed out. Rick had holstered his axe and dropped down to pick her up the same way he had Carl, only this time he also had Aaron to help him; the latter grabbing up Georgie's hunting knife she had dropped in the process. When she'd come to, she had her shoulder finally taken care of by Denise, who had promptly fished out the bullet which had still been lodged within her shoulder. Fortunately, there seemed to be no bone, joint or arterial damage, although there could be long-lasting nerve damage due to waiting so long to get the wound taken care of. The bullet was removed, the wound was cleaned, stitched up and dressed, and George was given a considerable dose of pain medication to boot.

She was no longer in physical pain, just emotional.

Sitting there, with her eyes closed from exhaustion, but avoiding sleep Denise had insisted on, Georgie opted to be in the bedroom with Rick as he kept vigil at his son's side. If it weren't for the teen yanking her son back, the gunshot wound she'd received could've been fatal. Two or three inches lower and she would've been struck through the heart and dead before she hit the ground. She owed Carl her life, and for that, she would remain nearby until she passed out or should Rick decide he wanted to be alone.

So far, neither had happened.

"I was wrong," Rick whispered.

Georgie lifted her head, thinking she was speaking to her for a moment. When she saw he was looking at Carl, she simply tilted her head back against the wall and looked over at the teen's peaceful face.

"I thought after living behind these walls for so long that...maybe they couldn't learn," Rick was speaking to his son, holding his hand, as tears were rolling down his face. "But today...I saw what they could do…what _we_ could do…if we work together. We'll rebuild the walls. We'll expand the walls. There will be more. There's _gotta_ be more. Everything Deanna was talking about is possible. It's _all_ possible. I see that now. When I was out there...with 'em...when it was over...when I _knew_ we had this place again...I had this feeling. It took me a while to remember what it was...because I haven't felt it since before I woke up in that hospital bed."

Georgie pursed her lips tightly together, watching Rick touch his hand gently down upon his son's head while he began to cry. She could see the anxiety in his face, the fear of his son not pulling through after everything. She had known that fear, and it had become a reality twice now for her. If Carl died now, there would still be Judith for Rick, but he would be a broken man, just as she was a broken woman. His soul would be torn in two and she didn't want that for him. He was too good of a man to suffer the pain of losing his child. She didn't want him to go through what Michonne, Carol and she were now unfortunate predicament they were in.

When you lose your husband or wife, you're a widow or widower. When you lose your mother and father, you're an orphan. But what do you call a parent who has lost their child? Is there not a name for that?

"I want to show you the new world, Carl. I want to make it a reality for _you_. Please, Carl," he woefully pleaded as tears rolled down his face and clung to his eyelashes. "Let me show you. Plea—please, son, don't die."

Tears stinging at her eyes as well, Georgie was letting own grief settle into her heart as she watched the way Rick hung his head. It was like a tightening in her chest, almost as if she couldn't breathe. Parting her lips as if she was going to emit a deep sob, she forced herself to looked down into her lap, so she never saw Rick abruptly look up at his son with a flash of hope in his eyes when Carl's fingers gently gripped onto Rick's hand.

"Carl?" he muttered. "Can you hear me?"

As Georgie lifted her head back up, Denise stepped into the room with her arms folded across her chest. Rick looked over at the young doctor and sat up straight in his chair.

"He grabbed my hand," he informed.

Denise nodded. "He suffered a severe head and ocular trauma. His subconscious is what's responding to you right now. It's too soon for him to be coming out of this, but it's definitely a good sign that he's on the road to recovery."

"Thank you, Denise, for everything you did last night. You saved Carl. You saved my son."

"That's what I'm here for," she shrugged, moving over to the other side of the bed and placing a hand upon Carl's forehead to check if he was feverish or not.

Rick locked eyes with Denise and nodded in Georgie's direction. "Thank you for taking care of her, too."

Denise looked over her shoulder back at Georgie, who promptly turned away to avoid eye contact. She was feeling too many emotions now and hated to have onlookers.

"Like I said," the doctor remarked, "that's what I'm here for." Turning back to Carl she flashed the tiniest of smiles. "He'll be okay here, Rick. He's not going anywhere. If there are any changes in his condition, I'll send for you, but you need to get some rest. Both of you," she directed toward Rick _and_ Georgie. "You have a little girl that needs you to be strong right now."

Rick hesitated, sitting back in his chair but not letting go of Carl's hand. He did, however, crane his head to glimpse Michonne in the doorway, still holding Judith; giving her a nod of thanks and receiving a nod in return.

"I mean it, Rick. Go home, take a shower, get some sleep," Denise pressed. Then, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb, she added, "And take her with you."

Catching Denise's firm, knowing eye, Rick nodded obediently.

As she removed herself from the room, Rick stood up and leaned over Carl, pressing his lips upon his son's forehead and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I love you, Carl. Just keep holding on," he whispered. "Don't leave me."

Leaning back up, he slowly released his grip from Carl's hand and tiredly stepped away from the bed over to Georgie. Crouching down to her level, he placed his hands on her upper arms and waited until she looked him in the eye.

"He's gonna live?" she asked, her mouth dry and her eyes bloodshot.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I think so." His eyes held hers and the pain she was feeling echoed deep inside him, too. He was too aware of how raw she was feeling at the moment. What they'd witnessed and experienced the night before, what she'd had to do to her own son…it wasn't something you just walked away from and got over. "I haven't had the chance to just talk to you about what happened yet. I—I'm so sorry, Georgie. I'm so sorry…I'm sorry."

"Just…just stop. Okay? You're not at fault so stop apologizing."

"I know…I just…I'm just sorry. I'm sorry _for_ you."

Georgie shook her head and looked toward the window. "I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity," he insisted. "It's empathy." As he moved his hands from her arms up to the sides of her face, he urged her to look at him. "What happened shouldn't have happened and I wish like hell I could change it all. I wish I would've backed your idea of having Gabriel take Tristan with him to the church."

"Then maybe he would've tried to shoot and kill Gabriel or _Judith_ instead," Georgie countered, her eyes reaching up to his again. "I'm his mother—_was_ his mother—and I let him continue with us. I believed he would be okay and I was wrong. There are…there are certain people who are just not made to exist in this kind of world and Tristan was one of them. And I shot him. I shot my son, and killed him." Licking her chapped lips, Georgie stared at Rick as if she were looking right through him; she was falling into such a daze. "Killers are monsters. That's what he said."

"He was a confused boy."

"I killed my own child. Again."

"You had to. What was happening to him," he remarked, choosing not to say that her son was getting eaten alive, "you made it quick. It was mercy."

"It was murder."

"No," Rick insisted. "It was _mercy_. You stopped him from suffering. That's not murder."

Georgie fell silent and tipped her head forward. Rick responded by leaning forward as well and placed his lips on her forehead. When he felt her body starting to shake from the sobs that had begun to arrive, he dropped his hands back down to her upper arms and pulled her up to her feet with him and then snaked his arms around her waist. Pulling her into a tight embrace, he leaned his head against hers and rubbed her back.

"I left his body in the road to be eaten," Georgie blurted mid sob. "There's probably nothing left of him."

A sharp pain of regret stabbed at Rick's heart as he felt Georgie grab tightly onto him, digging her fingers into his back. "I'll have someone get him. It shouldn't be you," he commented, adamantly. "We'll give him a proper burial. Okay?"

Georgie nodded; her face against his.

When she didn't respond right away, Rick leaned back and stared at her until she looked him in the eye.

"Okay?" he repeated, needing to know she understood.

"Okay," she answered, nodding again.

Rick lifted his hands once more and brushed her thick, ginger locks off her face and over her shoulders as he studied the look in her eye. When she cast her gaze down, he turned their bodies somewhat and he cast his own gaze over to his still-unconscious son.

Without another word, he slowly pulled Georgie out of the room. Michonne had since made herself sparse as not to eavesdrop on the couple's conversation, and she was still holding onto Judith. When Rick and Georgie moved by the infirmary's kitchen island, Michonne offered the baby girl to her father, who eagerly took her into his arms. Silently thanking the other woman for everything she'd done, he turned his body to face his lover who was standing there in front of him with a blank expression.

"Georgie," he whispered.

When she brought her attention back to him, she saw he was trying to hand Judith to her and she understood he was doing it so she had something to focus her energies onto beside her grief. Catching his eye, Georgie nodded and accepted the child into her arms. Wrapping the girl protectively in her embrace, Georgie kissed her cheeks and her forehead and just reveled in her warmth. Judith seemed to sense something was wrong, and leaned into her surrogate mother, reaching up to play with her hair.

As he nodded at a few of the others inside the infirmary, Rick opened the door and led his two girls outside into the early morning light. Those gathered on the small porch gave the couple a wide berth as well as solemn looks of condolence for Georgie's loss and Carl's precarious condition.

Stepping down from the porch, Rick and Georgie turned left, stepping in between the bodies scattered across the street in pools of blood and through the dissipating smoke in the air. Shifting Judith to her right hip, Georgie gave the girl her left index finger to readily grab onto and found a considerable amount of comfort in the way Rick extended his arm across her back to rest his hand on her hip opposite from him so he could pull her closer against his side as they wandered around the corpses.

Avoiding a looked down toward the lower road where Tristan's body had been left behind the night before, the trio continued up the road to the main house in silence as the sun began to rise high enough into the sky to shine down upon them.

Such bright warmth around them when they felt so dark and miserable inside?

What cruel mockery.


	31. The First Stages

**Author's Note: Admittedly this is a slower, filler chapter, but it is necessary and I hope ya'll enjoy it regardless. As always, please R&amp;R!**

**_\- Holly, xoxo_**

* * *

_"_When grief is deepest, words are fewest. " __— Ann Voskamp

* * *

In the days following the walker massacre, Alexandria began to rebuild. The first task was the obvious task of cleaning up; removing the bodies littering the streets, lawns, in homes and even in the small lake. The other main task, tended to by those with more of a technical know-how, was to fix the damaged section of wall that had come down with the fallen tower. Tobin and Abraham co-headed up the construction crew and went about fortifying the panels after the tower had been broken up into further pieces, and those pieces of wood that weren't charred from whatever fire had destroyed the building earlier on during the outbreak would be set aside for later use, or possibly for firewood in the homes. Almost everyone else banded together and began gathering up the bodies, loading them up into trucks and taking them outside Alexandria's walls to burn.

There were only a handful bodies that wouldn't receive that fate; but only one went unaccounted for and that was Deanna.

At some point throughout the night while the hordes of walkers were still making their way throughout the community, Deanna's body had gone missing. Most had come to the assumption that she was either completely devoured by other walkers, although there was no indication as to such a demise due to lack of evidence, so to speak. The other assumption was that she might've very well died and reanimated and somehow managed to leave the house and the community altogether as just another walker.

After Rick had returned home with Georgie and Judith the morning after the fight for Alexandria, he was pleasantly surprised to see the house was perfectly intact. No walkers had gotten inside or even made their way up to the porch. Once indoors, he led both his girls upstairs and took Judith from Georgie's arms to put the little girl down into her playard. She'd had a long night, the same as everyone. Because of the commotion, she hadn't been able to get any proper sleep and the way she was starting to fuss and thrash her body around in her father's arms was a big hint that the girl needed some serious shut eye.

Leaning down into the playard as Judith lifted her head up toward him, continuing to pout and whine, Rick simply brushed his hand along her hair and lull her with low shushing sounds until her eyes began to droop. He didn't need to do much else to urge her to sleep. The poor little thing could barely keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried and in moments her head was bobbing and she was down for the ten count.

Stepping out of the bedroom, Rick closed the door and then looked around for where Georgie was, thinking she was still in the hall where he'd momentarily left her, only to find she was standing in the room Carl had been sharing with Tristan. Walking up behind her, he placed his hands on her upper arms and leaned his forehead against the back of her head and pressed his lips into her hair.

"C'mon, let's get cleaned up."

"He was…he was in here yesterday. We talked to him yesterday and he seemed to understand what we told him and…and he seemed okay."

Leaning back, Rick let out a quiet sigh. "I know," he remarked, giving her arms a gentle rub. "I can't say enough how sorry I am, Georgie. I really am."

Turning around, Georgie didn't even look at him as she stepped past him and walked back down the hallway to the bathroom. Rick didn't miss a beat in following behind her as he watched her open the bathroom door and walk inside without bothering to go into their bedroom first to get new clothes to change into. He entered the room moments after her and let his eyes study the way she seemed aimless in her movements. She let her fingers graze the porcelain edge of the sink as she looked over toward the shower before dropping her hands to her sides and lifting up her shirt. When she winced slightly due to the gunshot wound to her shoulder, despite being on pain medication given to her by Denise, Rick stepped up and helped her out of her shirt and she let him.

Dropping her blood and grime-soaked shirt to the floor, Rick stepped around and got down to his knees in front of her. He braced one hand on the back of her left leg to prevent her from falling over as he helped her out of her boot, and then repeated the process for the right. After setting both aside and peeling her socks off, he stood back up and stepped up behind her; focusing on the side of her face as she just stood there while he unclasped her bra and pulled it down off her shoulders. Even after her bra dropped to the floor and she stood there naked from the waist up, she couldn't seem to focus on what she needed to do. Rick, remembering the bathroom door was still open, stepped back a few paces to shut it and then stepped forward again. He reached his hands around to Georgie's front and unzipped her pants and began to shimmy them down off her hips for her; crouching as he continued to push them down to her ankles. When her pants pooled at her feet, she stepped out of the right leg and kicked them away with her left. She was left in only her underwear and she turned around to face Rick, but couldn't look him in the face. Her eyes wandered to his chest, and up to his left shoulder at the thin scar caused by Morgan stabbing him there nearly a year before.

Bringing her fingers up to the old scar to graze lightly along it, Georgie leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his chest, just under his chin, and all he could do was encircle his arms around her back and hold her there. He wasn't sure if she was going to cry or what. He just held her, knowing she needed comfort and he didn't question it.

After a few minutes like that in silence, Georgie pulled back and turned from him as she pushed her underwear off and let them drop. Rick took that opportunity to walk over to the shower and turn it on, letting his hand hover under the spray to test the water until it was the right temperature. Knowing how they were both feeling, he had figured a little hotter than normal would be the best option at the moment.

Rick let her step inside the shower by herself, watching how the steam almost instant formed a cloud around her and began to fog up the glass of the shower stall to leave her body virtually indiscernible.

"I'll be right back. I'm gonna get some clean clothes for us," he informed, loud enough so she could hear him over the din of the water.

He received no acknowledgement that she heard him, but still exited the bathroom either way. And he was only gone two minutes, give or take, for once forgoing his usual black jeans and opting for actual denim for himself since they were clean. A clean black shirt for himself he also grabbed up, along with a simple white tank top and comfy black yoga pants for Georgie. While he didn't bother grabbing underwear for himself, he did for Georgie. She only had the one bra, though, but he was sure she didn't give a shit about that at the moment. He could toss it into the washer and dryer with their other soiled clothes later. A day without wearing a bra was the least of her worries.

When he slipped out of their room and back into the bathroom, he looked straight at the shower but didn't see Georgie initially. The water was still running and the steam was still fogging up all the glass surfaces in the room. Shutting the door behind him once again, Rick set their clothes down upon the closed toilet seat lid and then realized Georgie was sitting on the shower stall floor.

Worried that she might've slipped and hurt herself, Rick pulled the glass door open and peered down at her to find she was sitting there the same as she had earlier in the room in the infirmary where Carl was being cared for in. With her legs bent at the knees and pulled to her chest, Georgie sat with her head bent down, quietly sobbing.

Fortunate that the shower was large enough for the two of them to fit comfortably inside, Rick left the shower door open as he quickly removed all of his own clothing, along with his boots. Once disrobed, he stepped into the shower stall, closed the glass door as hot water began beating down on him. Crouching down, Rick managed to sit down beside her as the blood and other dirt was washed away, and pushed her wet hair off the side of her face closest to him. When Georgie lifted her head to look at him, he took that opportunity to wrap and arm around her back and pull her up to sit down in his lap.

There was absolutely nothing sexual about the moment. Georgie welcomed his arms tightly embracing her and the hot water washing as much of her guilt and grief away as symbolically as possible. Shifting her body so that she was straddling his lap, she wrapped her arms around his back as well and dropped her face down upon his shoulder as she continued to cry. And she wasn't alone in that, either. Rick didn't say anything to her to further console her. He simply let his own tears fall as well.

* * *

By the time either Rick or Georgie had managed to clean up in the shower, the water was already starting to run cold, but neither seemed to care. They got out, dried off and got dressed in their clean clothes. Even though they were both absolutely exhausted, both mentally and physically, neither could be bothered with sleeping just yet; not when they both knew Tristan's body was out there among the deceased walkers. Neither could rest until the boy's body was recovered and buried. However, Rick knew that Georgie finding her son's body after how they'd been forced to leave him would be too horrible a thing, so he had her stay back at the house while he walked up to the infirmary once more to ask that favor of someone else.

Rick just couldn't do it either.

Tristan had become a son to him and seeing what was left of the boy would've been to traumatizing. He was lucky to pass both Daryl and Glenn on his way to the infirmary and mentioned his plight. His two friends readily offered their services without hesitation. After Rick showed them toward the direction of where they'd been forced to leave Tristan's body behind, Rick just stood there at the intersection looking down the road toward the main gate with his arms folded anxiously across his chest and squinting from the morning sun. He watched as the two men stepped around all the scattered bodies, nudging a few out of their way, until he saw them come to a stop and peer down at the ground. Rick watched the way they looked at each other and place their hands on their hips and then turn away.

Whereas Daryl just stood there shaking his head, Glenn turned away and hunched forward as if he wanted to throw up and Rick was suddenly very aware that he was shaking. Before he could stop himself, he was walking forward to join up with the other two, stepping over or around walkers here and there, until Daryl sensed him approaching and held up a hand for him to stop.

"Rick, no," the archer muttered, shaking his head.

"What is it?" Then, more specifically, "How bad does he look?"

Pushing himself upright again, Glenn clenched his fists and frowned sadly. "There isn't much of him left, Rick," he answered pitifully.

His brow angling upward and his chin quivering, the first image those words brought to mind was when he went looking for Lori after she'd died and finding nothing but her wedding ring, a blood trail and that bloated walker who had devoured her; clothing and all. As he tried wrapping his head around the fact that his surrogate son, a nine-year-old child, was nothing but bloody pieces of flesh and bone, Rick's shaking became more visible to Daryl and Glenn.

"Just stay there, brother. That's why you got us doing this. Don't look," Daryl advised.

"I'll go get a few bed sheets," Glenn remarked. Off Daryl's nod, the younger man darted around the lower end of the lake and up toward the pantry, which was always stocked with extra bedding, not just food.

"Glenn and I got this," Daryl continued, lifting his hand to shield his already squinty eyes from the sun. "You should get sleep."

Rick shook his head. "I can't sleep till Tristan's taken care of."

"And we'll take care of him."

"There's barely anything to bury though. Georgie's gonna notice, wrapped in bed sheets or not."

Daryl frowned, looking around him at the other bodies scattered around. "We could take other parts. Add them to…to what we have of him. We'll lay it out so it looks like a whole body. Wrap it up in a few of the bed sheets. Georgie won't have to know."

"I'll know."

"But you won't tell her."

Nodding, Rick turned and looked toward the infirmary. "No, I won't," he agreed. "It's better she not know the details. She's practically catatonic right now as it is."

A few minutes later, Glenn returned with two bed sheets. He and Daryl shoved a few walkers out of the way and spread the first sheet out and, after throwing on some gloves, they lifted up what was left of Tristan and laid it down in the center of the sheet. Daryl then took the machete Glenn had strapped to his hip and began hacking off random body parts from the walkers nearby, much to Glenn's initial horror until he realized why. They set the limbs here and there and then wrapped the bed sheet around the entirety of the body parts, and then lifted it all up to wrap up once more in the second sheet, knowing the blood and entrails would seep through very easily.

"Did she really shoot Tristan?" Glenn asked of Rick, quietly.

Rick, who had been observing the pair at work, nodded grimly. "Yeah."

"I can't imagine how she's dealing with that."

"I don't think she really is yet."

"Can ya blame her?" Daryl questioned rhetorically.

"She's had to do it to both her kids, though. That's just…" Glenn sighed as he began tie some rope around one end of the swathed limbs. "That's just unnatural."

"The fuck that supposed to mean?" Daryl bit out, as he bound the other end.

"Carol, Michonne, Abraham, Deanna…Georgie: parents in this world who lost their children," Glenn spoke. "Parents shouldn't be burying their children. It should be the other way around. It's unnatural."

"Abraham had kids?" Rick wondered, momentarily distracted.

Glenn nodded. "Two, from what I've gotten out of Rosita. He told her, she told me in passing. They died along with his wife back in Texas before he met Eugene."

Glancing at the swaddled body parts, Rick inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and dropped his hands helplessly to his hips before gesturing toward the east end of Alexandria. "I'm, uh…I'll meet you at the graveyard. I'm gonna…gonna start digging the grave."

"Nah, brother, we got that, too," Daryl insisted.

Rick simply shook his head. "No, he was my son, too. I gotta do something."

It was the first time anyone other than Georgie or Rick himself had heard Rick refer to the boy as his son, and Daryl and Glenn just nodded in understanding. They watched him turn and make his way up the road and then turn right toward the infirmary. Even after they lost sight of him due to the coverage of shrubbery surrounding the lake, the two men holding the remains of Tristan and a few walkers knew their friend had not stopped at the infirmary and had continued on toward the edge of the walled community and made his way to the graveyard.

Rick had barely started digging by the time Daryl and Glenn brought Tristan's "body" to the graveyard. They set it down and just stood back to let Rick do his thing. Afterward, Rick, covered in dirt and sweat, grabbed the swaddled remains and lowered it down into the shallow grave with Daryl's help, despite Rick muttering under his breath that he had it under control. However, Rick shaking from grief and looking as if he wanted to vomit suggested otherwise.

Others were starting to filter into the graveyard to bury the few others that had died when the walkers came into Alexandria and saw Tristan's small grave and looked solemnly at each other and offered Rick a nod of condolence. Rick then brushed his hands on his jeans and mumbled something about going to get Georgie while Glenn offered to go grab Father Gabriel to preside over the funeral. Daryl remained, though, as if some sort of guard dog to make sure no one covered Tristan's grave up just yet.

Once Rick returned home, looking as soiled and sweaty as he was, he opted for changing into a different shirt in the laundry room before getting Georgie from upstairs. He didn't want her to see him that dirty and give her any more of a visual than she needed about what had been going on, even though he knew she was aware of it.

When Rick walked back out toward the kitchen, he found Morgan and asked if he'd stay put and keep an ear out for Judith while he brought Georgie with him to the graveyard for her son's funeral. The other man obliged and then Rick took his leave to head back upstairs where he found Georgie lying on their bed and at first he thought she was asleep, but when he moved around to the other side and peered at her, he could see she was just staring at the wall.

"It's time, honey."

"I can't," she whispered.

"You can't sit this out. You need to bury your son," he replied. "You'll hate yourself if you don't."

"I already hate myself."

Frowning, Rick moved back around to where she was lying and placed a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon."

With a heavy sigh, Georgie sat up and stood up. Slowly, she followed him out of their room, down the stairs and ignored the look of sympathy Morgan offered as she walked past him out the door with Rick. The couple didn't walk side by side, instead Rick leading the way around the bodies lying on the street. She walked slowly, with her hands wrapped across her chest and, although she was looking forward, she wasn't really seeing. She was in such a state of shock still. It felt almost impossible to comprehend what she was going through.

She'd always thought she'd be mentally prepared for something like this, given the fact that she had spent so long on the road toying with the possibility that her son was also dead.

There was no preparing for it, though.

Losing her daughter had been traumatizing enough, but she at least had the hope of her son being alive to keep her going. Now with that rug pulled out from underneath her, she felt so lost and shattered.

Once at the graveyard, and seeing the swaddled remains of her son, Georgie's knees buckled. But, before she could drop to the ground, Rick caught her and pulled her body against his; holding her close as she forced herself to not look away. Her son deserved her full attention even in death.

As Father Gabriel stood at the foot of the small grave, he lifted his bible up and then looked sadly over at both Georgie and Rick and the latter noticed a look of guilt also plaguing the preacher's face. Rick could more or less assume Gabriel probably wished he had taken Tristan with him to his church along with Judith, and then the boy might still be alive. However, there was no point in placing the blame at the moment. What was done was done. The boy had sealed his own fate by drawing attention to himself with that damned gun, which they would eventually come to realize had been stolen from the armory.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven," Gabriel began. "A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace…"

Gabriel turned to another spot in his bible and began to say some more words, but by that point both Georgie and Rick had seemed to tune him out. When they were nudged gently by Carol, they both looked up and saw Gabriel looking back at them with a sad smile and nodded to them, confirming he was done. Rick picked up the shovel he'd been using earlier and handed it to Georgie for her to throw the first bit of soil into her son's grave.

Taking the shovel into her shaky hands, Georgie crouched down and scooped the dirt up; tossing it down upon the white sheets wrapped around Tristan's remains. She hesitated in hand the shovel off though, gripping it tightly when she noticed there was blood soaking through the white material. When Rick took the shovel from her and tossed the next bit of soil into the grave, he passed it along to Carol, who repeated the gesture, and then Daryl, and Michonne, and Glenn, and Maggie, and Rosita.

Everyone in their immediate family took a turn and as Georgie looked up to take it all in, she realized that every single survivor within Alexandria — except for Denise who was back at the infirmary with a still unconscious Carl, and Morgan who had stayed behind with a sleeping Judith — was present. Every single person. Even the people Georgie barely knew still.

They weren't just there for the burial of the other fallen residents from their community. They were there for a fallen child and the mother he'd left behind. And, if Georgie wasn't so withdrawn from grief, she might've been moved to tears at the show of support. No matter the circumstances leading to his death, Tristan was still a child and the only child killed within Alexandria's walls since the beginning and everyone, whether they had really known the boy or not, was grieving such a loss at some level.

After the last bit of soil was thrown onto Tristan's grave and the other graves were tended to, most everyone had already begun to leave; to either go home and finally sleep, or push through their exhaustion in order to get to work at cleaning up the streets or fixing the wall.

When Rick took Georgie's hand to lead her away, she yanked her hand back and glared at him.

"No, I'm staying."

"You need to sleep," he insisted.

"I'll sleep later," Georgie replied, sitting down beside her son's grave. "I need to be here right now."

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Rick looked behind him to find Michonne nodding at him with the silent message of just letting Georgie be for now. Agreeing silently in return, Rick nodded back and then looked at anyone else was remained, telling them to head home; to get sleep or something to eat. They would have a busy few days and weeks ahead of them.

After the last person left the graveyard, Rick crouched down behind Georgie and placed his hands on her upper arms before pressing his lips into her hair on the back of her head. "I love you," he murmured, and then stood up; leaving her alone to mourn in peace.

* * *

Avoiding the suggestions to get some sleep of his own, like many were doing for a couple of hours before continuing with the beginning stages of cleanup, Rick went about loading up bodies into the back of the trucks with Daryl, Glenn and Heath. Eugene and Spencer manned the gate to let them out as they took the bodies outside to burn behind the ruined houses. By mid-afternoon, Tobin's wife flagged them down to offer them something to eat, which they did, either standing beside or on the tailgate eating peanut butter sandwiches made with homemade bread. It wasn't much but they weren't complaining.

Running on steam by that point, the group decided to call it quits for a while. Even though most of the bodies had yet to be burned, they had been moved down near the gate into piles to load up later on and take outside the walls for burning like the first batch. Until the fallen wall could be fixed, Abraham had driven the fuel tanker and parked it in front of the opening, making it difficult for anything to come inside the community. A few of the wooden boards from the fallen tower were used to line the bottoms of the truck on the outside of the wall to prevent anything from crawling underneath the truck.

Rick, ready to drop from exhaustion, having been up almost thirty-six hours, the same as pretty much everyone else, knew he had to sleep very soon. But he had things he still needed to do. He had to check on Carl, and see if there was any development with his condition, and he needed to go home and see if Georgie had gone up to sleep. Rick felt she needed it more than anyone; having been awake the same amount of time plus with her injury and her grief running her ragged.

After nearly an hour spent sitting with Carl, who was still asleep, Rick made the slow trek home. His thighs were sore from how active he'd been over the last two days and his vision was starting to blur from lack of sleep. The incessant yawning was doing nothing to help him either.

As he stepped inside the house, he found Michonne asleep on the couch with Judith on her chest, also asleep. He smiled, happy in the knowledge that so many loved and cared for his children. The saying of "it takes a village to raise a child" suddenly popped into his head and it never felt more true. Staggering up the stairs and making his way to his and Georgie's bedroom, he was stopped before he even reached the door by Carol sticking her head out of her own bedroom door.

"Georgie's not in there," she muttered.

"What?" Rick looked over at her, slightly distracted from exhaustion.

"She never came back from the graveyard," Carol clarified. "I think she's still there. I would've gone to check but I was so tired, the second I sat down on my bed I fell asleep for a few hours."

Rick hung his head and pinched his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the sleep deprivation migraine setting in. "Alright," he muttered. "Thanks for telling me."

"I'll go now. You need sleep."

"No," he shook his head, looking back up at her. "She's my wi—she's my, uh…I got it."

Carol smirked. "Okay."

"Michonne's got Judy with her on the couch. Both are asleep."

Nodding, Carol stepped more out into the hallway. "I'll grab Judith and make her something to eat. She's due for some dinner anyway."

Rick nodded back and moved back down the stairs with Carol in tow. While he headed for the door, he noticed Michonne and Judith were both now awake and he figured his heavy footsteps might've been the culprit. Retracing his steps a bit, Rick smiled down at his little girl and reached for her when Michonne passed her to him. Cradling his daughter in his arms, he inhaled the scent of her blonde tufts of hair and then kissed the top of her head.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured. "Been a good girl for your aunts?"

"If you call drooling all over my neck while she sleeps being good," Michonne quipped, wiping her throat with the palm of her hand and then wiping her hand on the side of her pants.

Rick chuckled a bit. "You're the one who fell asleep with her like that."

Michonne shrugged. "She's so cute though, and she loves to cuddle."

"She gets that from her mama," he remarked, kissing Judith's forehead and then leaning back to look at her little face as she looked up at him.

He saw so much of Lori in her, and it was rather nice sometimes. He no longer felt that guilt over his wife's death and had been able to move past it and looking at his daughter and seeing Lori now was like looking at an old, home video and smiling at the good memories. However, when he looked at Judith nowadays, as she was coming into her looks more and more, he knew the other features in the little girl were none of his and all Shane. He tried seeing the good in that to; forgetting the way things ended with his dead best friend and focusing on the fact that part of the man was still alive in the girl in his arms. No matter what, in his heart, despite what genetics might say, Judith was his daughter and always would be, but he knew someday he would have to tell her the truth. Not until she was much, much, much older though.

As Carol came up behind him to take Judith and give her some dinner, Rick looked back to Michonne after letting his gaze linger sleepily upon his daughter for a few more moments.

"You headed back out?" Michonne asked. "You just got back and you look like you're gonna pass out at any minute."

Rick shrugged. "I gotta check on Georgie. Carol says she hasn't come home yet since the funeral this morning."

"I'll come with you."

Rick was gonna say she didn't have to, but just accepted her company.

The two of them walked in silence out of the house and up the road until they neared the infirmary when Michonne asked if there was a change in Carl's condition. When Rick said there wasn't, Michonne mentioned taking a shift to watch over him either that night or the next morning.

"I'm sure he'd like that," Rick commented, running his fingers through his curls which were slick from sweat.

At the end of the road, they ducked between the shrubbery sectioning off the graveyard for privacy and both stopped when they looked down toward Tristan's grave to see Georgie lying down beside it with her legs curled up to her chest. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady, and she just looked so peaceful. As Rick walked closer and crouched down, he could see there were dried streaks from tears on her face, signifying she'd likely cried herself to sleep.

Moving around to pick her up and carry her home to put her to bed somewhere more comfortable, Michonne grabbed his arm and stopped him. When he looked over his shoulder at her, he saw the other woman shaking her head rather adamantly with a somewhat stern expression. Curious, Rick watched as Michonne walked over to one of the extra bed sheets that hadn't been need for the bodies buried earlier and draped it gently down upon Georgie.

Stepping back and look up at Rick, she touched his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "When she wakes up and is ready to come home, she will." When she locked knowing eyes with Rick, she added, "Let her grieve in her own way right now."

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, Rick awoke from a nightmare wherein Carl, Georgie and Tristan had all be devoured by walkers the night before and he wasn't able to make it back to the church to get to Judith because there were too many walkers surrounding him and, for some reason, he had no weapons to protect himself with and Michonne wasn't there like she had been when she led their way to the infirmary. He'd been alone and was about to die and that fear is what suddenly jolted him awake to find tears at his eyes.

Sitting upright and looking to his right, he saw that Georgie still wasn't there beside him. It made him feel anxious and the residual thoughts from the nightmare weren't helping him any. Tossing his legs over the side of the bed and just staring into the darkness of the room for a while, he eventually pulled himself up to his feet and exited his and Georgie's room to go check on Judith. Peering inside, he saw she was asleep and safe, so he took his leave.

The house was quiet. Carol's bedroom door was shut, but Carl and Tristan's bedroom door was open because it was empty and not knowing when it would be occupied by his son again ate at him worse than the walkers from his nightmare ever could.

Walking quietly down the stairs, he looked and saw Michonne's bedroom door was closed and then peered around the kitchen and living space, finding it just as quiet and empty. Grabbing for his jacket, he threw it on and zipped it up halfway; the nights always seeming cooler even when the days could be blistering hot. As Rick stepped out onto the front porch, he looked to his left and immediate found Daryl asleep with a pillow from the couch under his head.

Rick smirked and kept walking down from the porch and up the street. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he remembered the first night he'd walked the same path, with his hands in his pockets. That night, however, there had been a full moon out and Jake had been on the front porch of the blue house smoking a cigarette, welcoming him to Alexandria while Georgie and Tristan were inside the house.

How differently things had changed in less than a month.

Hell, how differently things had changed in only twenty-four hours.

Seeing a light on in the infirmary, Rick felt compelled to stop inside and check on Carl again. Each time he stepped through the door there he did so while holding his breath, half expecting Denise to tell him Carl hadn't made it. Carl quickly deteriorating and dying before anyone could do anything or before Rick could get to his son's side to tell him goodbye was becoming a constant fear of his; hence his need to frequently check in, even if there was no change. He simply needed to see that his son was doing well enough with his own eyes.

Inside, he found Rosita at the desk with her feet up and painting her fingernails a vibrant shade of red. Raising an eyebrow at her, he stopped just inside the doorway and cleared his throat when she hadn't registered someone had even entered.

"Nice color," he remarked.

Looking considerably embarrassed, Rosita dropped her feet down to the ground and shifted in her seat. "Uh…thanks."

"Where'd you find nail polish?"

"Tobin's wife."

Rick nodded. "Ahh," he muttered lamely, casting an eye toward the bedroom to the left where Carl was. "How's he doing?"

"Still asleep, but Denise says he's still doing okay." Frowning, she added, "I haven't had a chance to say, but I'm sorry he got shot like that. I'm sorry about Georgie losing her son, too. I can even begin to understand what the two of you are going through right now."

"I appreciate the sympathy, regardless," he insisted. "We both do."

"How _is_ Georgie holding up?"

Rick let out a sigh. "Not great, but that's to be expected."

"How are _you_ holding up?"

"Better than Georgie," he replied, looking down at and purposely scuffing the toe of his boot against the wooden floor. "I can't help feeling guilty that my son survived and hers didn't. That I have _both_ my children and she doesn't."

Rosita shrugged. "But she has you, and she has Carl and Judith, too. And all of us. We're all here for her if she needs anything."

"I appreciate that, Rosita."

"It's what family does." With a small smile, the twenty-something female lifted her legs back up onto the desk and resumed painting her fingernails.

"Yeah, it is."

"Did you want to go in and sit with Carl?" she asked, casting a brief look his way.

"No, I just came to check on him. I couldn't sleep."

"Well, if anything changes, or if he wakes up, someone will certainly come get you."

"Thank you."

"No problemo, Ricardo."

Snickering, Rick shook his head and bid Rosita goodnight, but only after ducking into the bedroom to place a kiss upon his son's head and whisper he loved him.

Once he exited the infirmary, he turned right and continued up the road toward the graveyard. Most homes were dark, except for the Monroe residence where he knew Spencer was now living all by himself; the last of his family. It didn't seem like it would be the best option for the younger man in the long run; living alone in such a big space with constant reminders of his parents and brother. Perhaps, in time, the home could be passed to someone with a larger family and Spencer could take up residence in a smaller place, or even take in roommates.

Maybe Maggie and Glenn could live there and start a family of their own. Maybe Rick would move himself in with Georgie, Carl and Judith, since he was more or less the de facto leader once again. He wouldn't mind it, he supposed. It was a really nice home. All those stairs, though, would kill his knees, so perhaps he was fine with where he was. Honestly he liked his current setup; with not only his children and the woman he loved, but also his friends who were his family, too.

Approaching the shrubbery separating the graveyard from the road, Rick slipped through them once again and found Georgie still asleep at her son's grave. Tempted with the notion of either leaving her there still or with bringing her home anyway, Rick instead opted to lie down beside her.

Lying on his side, big spoon to her little spoon, he gently draped an arm over her waist and pulled her close. She didn't wake up from the gesture, but in her sleep she seemed to sense him; snuggling back up against him in a way that brought a smile of contentment to his face.

Leaning his forehead between her shoulder blades, Rick inhaled the scent from her hair and closed his eyes, letting the sound of crickets and the random moan from a walker or two outside the walls lull him to sleep.

* * *

A few hours later, Rick was abruptly stirred away by a gentle kick to his shin. When he lifted his head, and opened his eyes, he was forced to squint from the morning sun beating down on him and could make out a pair of legs standing next to him. Scanning upward, he realized it was Carol, and she was holding Judith on her hip.

"Good morning, sunshine," she greeted with a small smile.

Rick grunted and began to sit up while looking around at where he was, and remembered he was in the graveyard. What was different about his surroundings now was that the bed sheet that had been draped over Georgie was now draped over him, and Georgie was gone.

For a moment, he felt the onset of panic deep in his chest and Carol seemed to sense it.

"Georgie came home a little while ago. She went upstairs, took a shower and changed, held onto Judith for a few minutes and then went back out," Carol explained. "When I came this way, I was sure I saw her near the wall with the construction crew. Her hair is kinda hard to miss."

Rick nodded and climbed up to his feet, balling the bed sheet into his arms and then reaching a hand out to Judith's face and cupping it gently. "Thanks for waking me up and telling me."

"Heath told me where you were. He thought he heard a walker in here," she commented, looking around the graveyard. "Turns out it was just you snoring."

Smirking a little, Rick shrugged as he adjusted his gun belt on his hips. "I guess I was still pretty damn tired."

"We're gonna get through this. All of us. We're gonna make this place better."

"Fingers crossed, right?"

A few minutes later, Rick and Carol went their separate ways; with Carol returning home with Judith and Rick heading to the infirmary again to check on Carl. Denise was there, standing at her desk, thumbing through some large medical tome while nursing a cup of coffee in her free hand. When Rick walked in, she greeted him with a shy smile and offered him a cup of coffee which he turned down at first, but then accepted when she insisted. As he ducked into Carl's recovery room, he pulled up the chair at his son's bedside and took the teen's hand in his like he had the morning before.

"Carl, it's Dad," he spoke, squeezing his son's hand. "I'm here again. I wish you could wake up and tell me you were okay, but if it means you'll heal better, then take all the time you need. No rush or anything. I'm just…I know you can hear me on some level, but I'm still scared of losing you. I hope this is something you can get through. I mean, I _know_ it is. I need you to. Again, though; no pressure."

"Here ya go, Rick," Denise muttered as she walked into the room with a cup of coffee for him.

"Thanks," he replied, taking it graciously from her with a slight nod of his head.

"He's doing really well," she spoke after a moment of awkward silence between them. "His hands are twitch occasionally. Sometimes his head seems to turn toward the direction of whoever's talking to him."

"Have others been in here to visit with him?"

Denise nodded. "Aside from me and Rosita and you? Yeah. Daryl popped in for a few minutes last night before Rosita took over watching him for me. Enid read him some comic books. Michonne held his hand and just sat there where you are for a good hour early this morning, and Georgie, too."

"Georgie was here?"

"Yeah, I mean. I didn't see her. Rosita told me. It was literally just before I started my shift for the day. She was in here for about a half hour, sitting with Carl. Rosita said she thinks she heard her crying but didn't dare interrupt."

Rick sat back in the chair, still maintaining his hold on Carl's hand, while taking a sip of the coffee and trying to ignore how horribly sweet it tasted while focusing on the fact that Georgie had stopped in to see Carl. "Did she say anything while she was here, do you know?"

When Rick cast his eyes upon her, Denise shrugged. "I dunno. Rosita didn't tell me anything else and I was too busy checking Carl's vitals."

Rick nodded. "And you're sure he's doing okay?"

"I am. And I have a hunch he'll regain consciousness in another day or so. I mean, like I said before, this kind of head trauma with the shattered bone and destruction to his ocular cavity. He'll wake up, but until we do we won't know the extent of the damage." She seemed to be tiptoeing through her words under his steady gaze. "There could be other issues. Cognitive issues."

"Such as?"

"Worst case scenario?"

"Yeah."

Denise exhaled a nervous sigh. "Loss of memory, speech, basic comprehension and reasoning…"

Rick gripped his coffee cup tighter in his hand and clenched his jaw; not out of anger but fearing the worst. "And the best case scenario?"

"Best case is he has coordination issues with having to get used to having only one eye, and he'll definitely have an issue with depth perception, but that can be treated with PT," she answered. "When he wakes up, and I can determine the extent of the trauma, and once we can get him up and moving again, I'll work with him at getting back to as close to one hundred percent as I can."

"I appreciate it. Everything."

Denise shrugged. "Like I said: just doing my job."

"Well…you're doing pretty damn well in my book."

"Considering I'm the only option…"

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them," Rick muttered.

A smile formed on Denise's lips as she pointed at him knowingly. "That was Shakespeare."

Rick confirmed with a nod and a slight smile of his own. "I read a book or two in high school. I remember some things."

Fidgeting somewhat, Denise looked over at Carl and then out through the doorway to the rest of the infirmary. "Well, I'll, uh…give you some privacy now."

As soon as Denise darted out of the room, Rick turned his gaze back toward his son. Running his thumb across the teen's knuckles, he sighed and brought the coffee cup back to his lips and then frowned upon the second sip; wondering just how much sugar Denise had put in. He was used to either drinking it black or just a bit of creamer or milk. Rick could almost hear the cavities in his mouth being born.

Hunching forward, he set the cup down beside his chair and then set back again, holding his son's hand and staring at him.

* * *

After a good hour or so, Rick left the infirmary and went in search of Georgie before remembering Carol mentioning she'd seen her with the construction crew at the fallen wall.

With that bowlegged strut of his, Rick made his way toward the lower road by the solar panels and spotted Georgie almost immediately. Carol was right in that the ginger's hair was hard to miss. It was so bouncy from her naturally loose curls and as bright orange as Abraham's. And, speaking of which, that was who Rick greeted first, while maintaining a careful eye on his lover.

"Abraham," he greeted.

The burly ginger turned and smiled at him. "Morning, Rick. How's your boy."

"Still out, but Denise's certain he'll pull through. We just gotta wait to see how he'll be once he's awake." Rick shrugged and made a flippant hand gesture out of mild stress. "There could be memory loss and shit like that."

"Well, I hope not. I hope he pulls through."

"As do I." A moment later, he nodded in Georgie's direction. "She shouldn't be this active," he noted, watching as she was drilling a few screws into the beam running alongside the new panel that had been propped up. "She's still healing from a gunshot wound. She should be resting."

Just as he spoke those words, it must've been that Georgie's ears were ringing. Turning around, she looked over her shoulder toward Rick and when he lifted his hand to wave at her, she looked away and he frowned.

"Don't worry. I got my eye on her," Abraham assured. "Plus, she already ignored me when I told her what you just told me."

Rick glanced up at the larger man and just studied his face for a moment before shaking his head and turning back toward Georgie's direction. "I'm just worried for her."

"As any good man would be about the woman he loves." Slapping Rick a bit roughly on the back between the shoulder blades, Abraham continued, "She's working through her grief right now. But if she overworks herself, I'll be sure to throw her over my shoulder and bring her right home to ya; kicking and screaming if I have to."

Rick smirked a little. "I appreciate that. I do. And somehow I don't doubt that's what you would literally do, too."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've thrown a pretty lady over my shoulder and it won't be the last."

Despite his conflicted mood, Rick chuckled and it felt really good to. He needed more opportunities to find amusement and joy in his life, and right now those opportunities felt like they were seriously lacking.

Once he was sure for himself that Georgie seemed fine, at least physically, Rick took his leave and took the long way home to sort through his thoughts. He walked the inside perimeter, noting Tara manning one of the watch posts with Spencer while Michonne was manning another with Sasha. Daryl, Glenn and Heath were back at loading up the piles of walkers and taking them outside the walls and when he offered to join them, Daryl shot him down; insisting they had a handle on it and that Rick's priority right now was to take care of and be with his family.

Acquiescing, Rick eventually made his way home, waving to the Millers who sat on their porch as they had the first full day Rick's group spent in Alexandria. The old couple just sat there, watching everyone working and he couldn't help but think about all the things they must've seen in their lifetime and how living in the world now was like for them. He was also quite jealous of them. The world didn't fall apart until their twilight years. They'd hit all of life's important milestones and been able to grow old together. Everyone else in the community and in the world in general could only be so lucky.

Giving the Millers a wave as he walked by, he then focused on just going home to grab a shower and spend time with Judith.

And that was exactly what he did. Rick sat with Judith in the living room, letting her literally crawl all over him. He picked her up and tossed her into the air; the way she giggled sounding like music to his ears. He blew raspberries on her stomach which made her laugh so hard she farted, which in turn made him laugh. That was until he realized it wasn't just a fart, and that she had actually shit herself. The stench that almost immediately offended his nostrils, he was sure, was comparable to the rotting flesh of the walkers that were baking in the sun and waiting to be removed from within the community.

When it was time for Judith's lunch, he made that for her and then sat with her upstairs in her room, reading her a book until her full stomach and the sound of his voice lulled her to sleep. Carefully and quietly, he set her down in her playard and came downstairs to turn on the baby monitor so he could watch her as she slept, but his mind was quickly distracted by everything else again.

As soon as Michonne came home from her shift atop the watch post, he tasked her with staying with Judith while he went back out to help with anything by this point. Rick just really needed to feel productive, and he needed a decent excuse to keep an eye on Georgie for himself.

Since the construction crew had enough hands on deck and Daryl, Glenn and Heath had a handle on the walker removal, he joined Aaron, Eric, Olivia, Scott and a few others with a different kind of cleaning up. The blood on the streets they would leave to the next rain storm to wash away, but there was plenty of blood staining porches and inside, random debris that needed picking up and glass that need sweeping. It was enough to keep Rick feeling useful and not like he wasn't contributing when everyone else was. Plus, he could still take the time to step away and check in on Carl a couple more times and glimpse Georgie from a safe distance without seeming like he was hovering.

That night, before heading home, Rick followed after Georgie when he saw her making her way to the infirmary. Once he caught up with her, he gently grabbed onto her wrist just before she stepped inside Carl's recovery room.

"Georgie," he muttered.

Her eyes panned down at his hand and her shoulders slumped. "What?"

It was the first word she'd spoken to him since the afternoon before when he'd left her alone in the graveyard. "Are you okay?"

"Just…please don't."

"Don't what?"

"I don't want to talk right now."

Rick frowned. He didn't let go of her wrist right away; instead pulling her closer to him so he could press the tip of his nose against the side of her face. He didn't say anything. He just nuzzled her cheek slightly and then kissed her temple. As his grip sipped from her wrist, he watched as she looked briefly up at him and then turned away to head in to sit with Carl.

Looking down at his feet, Rick looked over toward the archway to one of the other rooms and found Tara standing there rather sheepishly; clearly having witnessed the exchange between the couple.

"Denise done with her shift?" he inquired.

The brunette nodded, shoving her hands into her pockets and stepping forward. "Yeah, just a few minutes ago. I was gonna take a shift to watch Carl, but Georgie stopped in earlier and said she wanted to sit with him tonight," she informed quietly so her voice didn't carry into the other room. "I was just about to head home."

"Yeah, it's been a long day."

"Yeah," she agreed. "How you holding up?"

Rick shrugged. "I've been better."

"Well, Carl will get better and then you'll be better, too, soon enough." With a nod of her head, Tara gestured to the recovery room Georgie and Carl were in. Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, she added, "And she will, too. She just needs time."

"I know," he agreed, just as quietly. "I just get this impression like she's mad at me, as if maybe she thinks I should've or could've done more to prevent what happened to Tristan. And I feel like maybe she's bitter or envious about how my kids are still alive while hers ain't."

Tara shook her head adamantly. "No, you can't think that way. She sees Carl and Judith as her own flesh and blood and definitely loves them the same as you."

Rick sighed, knowing Tara's words to be true.

Without saying anything further but offering a gracious smile, Rick turned from Tara. Moving toward the doorway to the recovery room, he stole a glimpse inside and saw Georgie seated in the bedside chair. She was holding Carl's right hand in both of hers as she sat hunched forward with her head resting against her outstretched arms.

The scene was both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time.

Knowing both his son and his girlfriend would be okay with each other for the night, Rick stepped back from the room and made his way out of the infirmary.

* * *

Only a few hours later, Rick was lying sprawled out on his bed with his left arm dangling off the edge and his mouth wide open as he snored. He was in such a deep sleep that he never heard his bedroom door open.

"Rick," a voice called out, trying to rouse him from his slumber.

When that didn't seem to work, whoever was in his room reached down and slapped at his errant arm.

"Rick, wake up."

Like he had the night before due to that nightmare, Rick bolted upright in bed and went to swing at the intruder, only to see that it was Michonne as soon as his tired blue eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Michonne?" Off her nod, he frowned. "What's going on?"

There was a glimmer of a smile in both her eyes and on her lips. "It's Carl," she replied. "He's awake."


	32. Coming Together

**Author's Note: This chapter was mostly filler, simply because (as Danai said a couple weeks ago on Talking Dead) two months have passed, even if other characters only mention a "month" or "a few weeks". I think Danai's timeframe fits better anyway. So yeah, anywho. Hope you enjoyed this regardless. The next chapter will be posted in probably a week or so only because I try and take turns writing chapters for both this story and my other, 'We Can Change'. The next chapter will get more on track with season 6 and follow the plot of "The Next World" with some notable "changes to the lineup", so to speak. And, as always, please R&amp;R!**

_**xoxo - Holly**_

* * *

_"__Me and you, we do what we gotta do_

_We only want to have a good life_

_It's tough, we don't see each other enough_

_And sometime the going gets rough_

_Still we keep pushing on through"_

— Styx

* * *

Rick continued to sit there in the dark of his and Georgie's room for a few moments, staring up at Michonne as he tried to comprehend what she had just told him while his mind was still waking up. When the weight of her words finally hit him, his sleepy blue eyes widened and his heart nearly leapt as quickly out of his chest as he did to his feet. Never in his entire life could he remember getting out of bed and throwing on a shirt so fast. He nearly stumbled and Michonne chuckled a little as he regained his footing.

"How long?" he asked. "How long's he been up?"

"About ten minutes."

"Is he—is he alert? Does he remember…?"

Michonne shrugged. "I dunno. Tara just showed up a couple of minutes ago and woke me up to come get you."

As he shoved a foot into one of his boots, Rick looked up at Michonne through his eyebrows. "Why didn't she just come get me herself?"

"Well, you took a swing at me when I just woke you up. That's at least one reservation she might've had."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that."

"You missed anyway."

Holding her eye contact, Rick merely smirked. "It was a just a reflex. Not like I was actually aiming."

"Oh, so if you were aiming you think you could've taken me down?"

Standing up, Rick shook his head. "I don't hit women." Cocking his head to the side slightly, he added, "Unless they're already dead or trying to kill me or my family."

Michonne simply smirked back at him. As she stepped back to let him walk out of the bedroom first before following after him down the hallway and down the stairwell. Neither of them bothered with jackets of any kind, despite the slight chill in the night air. They were both anxious to get to the infirmary and see Carl. Tara was waiting in the living room and smiled at Rick as he approached.

"Thanks for coming to get me," Rick nodded at her.

"Georgie was there with Carl when he woke. She ran upstairs to get Denise and Georgie wasn't looking like she was about to leave Carl's side anytime soon, so I figured it was dispensable."

"I thought you were heading home after we talked earlier tonight?" Rick questioned as the three of them headed outside.

"I, uh…I kinda moved in with Denise."

Rick raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you two were together."

"It happened recently."

Smiling, Rick placed a hand on the young brunette's shoulder. "As long as you're happy."

Tara smiled back up at him as they headed up the road together. "I am," she replied with her hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie.

Barely two minutes later, the three of them were walking into the infirmary and Rick wasted no time darting into the recovery room on the left where he was instantly greeted by the sight of his son sitting up in bed as Denise hovered over him, checking his vitals. Georgie was still in the bedside chair, holding onto Carl's right hand and the boy didn't seem as if he planned on letting go anytime soon. It was obvious he found comfort in her being there and that meant so much to Rick, as he was sure it meant a lot to Georgie, given recent events.

"Dad," Carl greeted; his voice a bit raspy from being comatose and not having spoken in two days. Ironically, 'dad' was the last thing the teen had said to him before he fell over on the street. It was almost poetic that it was the first thing he said to his father upon waking up. Like bookends.

"Carl." Rick's heart swelled and happy tears began to burn at his tired eyes as he moved to sit down on the left side of his son's bed, facing him. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I have the worst headache ever," he answered. His speech was a bit slow and his reaction time was delayed as he turned to look up at his father. "Denise told me what happened…to me. I forgot."

"Do you remember anything from that night?" Rick asked, taking his son's left hand in his.

Carl nodded slowly. "I don't remember getting shot. I don't think I felt it, but I knew something happened. I couldn't see right. And then I think that's when I passed out. That's all I remember until now. I woke up and Georgie was here with me."

As the teen turned his attention to the redhead at his right, he smiled a little and she smiled back.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," she insisted, giving his right hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm…sorry," he muttered.

Rick knitted his brow together. "What for?"

"That afternoon when the tower knocked the wall down, but before that; Tristan came with me…to visit Mikey again, but he gave me the slip. I—I didn't realize he'd left. I don't know how…but I think…I think that's when he snuck off and found a gun. I didn't know he had it back at the other house. I didn't see it on him then…I'm sorry…"

Georgie shook her head adamantly. "That is not your fault. It was _not_ your responsibility. I'm his mother. He was _my_ responsibility and I failed him…and you…" Her chin quivered as she lifted one of her hands up to brush some hair off his face. "I'm sorry he did this to you."

"He shot you, too."

Georgie shrugged as she brought her gaze briefly toward Rick, and then back to Carl. "And you saved my life by grabbing at him. I could be dead, but I'm not. I would've gladly died, though, if it meant you not having to get shot."

"No, we need you," Carl remarked, causing Georgie to bite her lips to hold back the sob rising in her throat. "I'll live."

"Yeah, you will," Rick insisted with a nod and then leaned forward to kiss his son's forehead. "I've been worried sick for days. You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake…and talking."

"Well, he shouldn't stay up much longer," Denise finally piped up, having stepped aside to let the boy converse a bit with his father and Georgie. "He still has a lot of healing to do and sleeping as much as possible will help. The fact that he woke up already is a good sign though. The damage is mostly superficial."

Rick snapped his head around and scowled. "How can say losing his eye is superficial?"

Denise clammed up almost immediately. "I mean that—"

"The bullet didn't go through his head and damage his brain," Michonne commented from the back of the room. She walked up and stood at the foot of the bed with her arms folded across her chest. "It struck the side of his head and shattered the eye, but he can still see and he will get stronger. He'll be able to function normally in no time at all." With a small smile, she reached down and gave the boy's foot a squeeze over the blanket covering it.

Carl smirked back at her and then yawned. "I'll be fine, dad. I'm just…tired."

Lifting his hand from Carl's, Rick patted his son on the shoulder. "It's okay. Just get some rest. Sleep as long as you want. If you want, I'll bring you some of your comic books to read, when you're ready to."

Carl nodded and smiled. "I should get shot more often if it means lying in bed all day, reading comics," he tried to joke, but it didn't go over well. The teen's smile faded and he shrugged. "I guess I can use this downtime to work on my jokes, too."

"You just focus on your recovery," Georgie remarked. "You can focus on your career as a standup comedian once Denise's given you a clean bill of health."

With a nod and a slight smirk, Carl looked between her and his father and then shifted so lay back against his pillow. Standing up, Georgie leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of his head and then took her leave of the room while Rick still remained. With one more squeeze to his foot, Michonne then left as well; joining Georgie out in the infirmary where Tara was also. It also allowed Rick to talk to his son a bit longer and also with Denise about what would be happening next in regard to Carl's recovery and rehabilitation.

Folding her arms across her chest, Georgie exhaled a deep breath through her nostrils and glanced up at the other woman. "A part of me was worried he might not wake up," she admitted. "It's like such a huge weight off my shoulders now; that fear. I couldn't lose him, too."

As tears stung her eyes and then dripped down her face without warning, Georgie looked over at the kitchen island, wanting to avoid anyone seeing her cry. Understanding her plight, Michonne stepped forward and hugged Georgie.

"We don't have to worry about that now," Michonne muttered.

When Georgie felt something wet on her shoulder, she realized Michonne was crying, too. Pulling back, she held the other woman at arm's length and both just looked ruefully at each other. Neither felt the need to say anything more on the subject since both had experienced the same losses and felt the same attachment for the boy in the other room. They'd lost their own children, same as Carol, and had Rick's to love instead. Although, Georgie's latest lost had only just occurred to nights prior and it was still too painful to get past just yet.

Wiping the tears from her face, Georgie glanced briefly at Tara and then back at Michonne. "When they're done in there, I'll go back in and continue to sit with Carl," she remarked.

Michonne shook her head. "You look exhausted. You're still healing from your wound and I know you overworked yourself during the day and it's already the middle of the night. The sun will be up in a couple hours and you still haven't been to sleep," she spoke, placing her hands on her hips. "Go home. Go to sleep, and sleep _in_."

Georgie was about to say something, to insist against what Michonne was telling her, but she couldn't deny how absolutely tired she was. It had been an absolute struggle to keep her eyes open just before Carl had woken up, and then Carl waking up had given her a boost of adrenaline. She couldn't fight exhaustion any longer.

"Alright," Georgie nodded, though she was still hesitant to leave, wondering who would sit with Carl.

Sensing the ginger's plight, Michonne smirked. "I'll sit with Carl so Denise can go back and get some sleep before she starts her day. We need our only doctor as rested as possible if she's gonna be able to provide our boy with the best possible medical attention."

Georgie nodded again. "Okay. Thanks. I'm sure Rick will appreciate someone staying with his son."

Giving Georgie a meaningful look, Michonne patted her on the arm. "Go home," she repeated with a smile.

"Yes, ma'am," Georgie mock saluted.

With a nod goodbye to Tara, Georgie exited the infirmary and made her way home.

* * *

After Carl had fallen back asleep, Rick and Denise had further discussed the boy's condition and what lay ahead for him. She went over the course of action she planned on taking to help rehabilitate the boy as he healed, starting with minor sight exercises to strengthen his left eye. She also wanted him to stay at the infirmary for at least two weeks so she could watch him more closely.

Despite Michonne offering to sit with Carl, Rick had decided to do stay at his son's beside instead; telling Michonne she could go home, but that he appreciated the offer regardless.

Barely an hour after sunup, Denise reappeared after getting a bit more sleep, although not much. She commented about taking a nap sometime during the afternoon if Carl wasn't in immediate need of her. She knew someone would be on hand to sit with the teen to get Denise in case anything happened. Rick took his leave then, tired due to not sleeping much that night, and walked home as he saw several Alexandrians already beginning to leave their homes to start their day and continue with further cleanup, or with the wall issue.

Once home, he found Carol up as well; holding Judith on her hip as she prepared breakfast for the infant. Rick briefly caught the woman up to speed on Carl, and then kissed his daughter's head before making his way upstairs to get some more sleep.

Upon opening the bedroom door, he was pleasantly surprised to find Georgie there, lying on her side and out cold. Her snoring was light and gentle, and it was comforting for Rick to hear. Just having her back in the same bed was wonderful enough. So, as not to wake her, he quietly slipped off his boots but didn't bother changing out of his clothes. Shutting the door to drown out any sounds from elsewhere in the house, Rick crept around to his side of the bed and gently sank down onto the mattress.

Like in the graveyard, he curled up beside her, finding comfort as he draped an arm around her waist and pulled her close against him. And, again; sensing him in her sleep, and feeling that same comfort, Georgie reached for his hand and squeezed it as she played the little spoon to his big spoon.

* * *

He wasn't sure when it happened in the hours he was asleep but, when he woke up, Rick found Georgie still in his arms, with a hand upon his chest and her head resting on his shoulder. His was on his back with his legs sprawled out while one of hers was draped between his. As he blinked sleep away, and realized she was still there, a small smile crept onto his lips. Lifting his right hand, he brought it down to cover her which lay on his chest and he turned his face to peer at hers as best as he could without waking her.

Rick had missed this level of comfort and closeness between them, even if it had only been two three days since they'd shared a bed together like this. It made him happy, and things — as horrible as they'd been recently — seemed to be looking up.

It had taken the community becoming overrun, but everyone had come together as one group. It wasn't just Rick's group and the Alexandrians anymore. They were all Alexandrians now. They'd all fought for this place and they would continue to. Carl received a permanent, life-altering wound but the outlook was good and he would live and, more importantly, have a life. Judith was fine, Maggie was pregnant, and Georgie was in his arms again.

Life was going on, as it should.

Letting out a sated sigh, Rick almost immediately cursed himself for it when it seemed to stir Georgie awake and broke into his peaceful reverie.

Rather abruptly she lifted her head and looked around at her surroundings; forgetting for a moment where she was. When she brought her attention to Rick, she found him smiling a little up at her and, for a moment, she also forgot all the bad things that had happened; most importantly losing her son. Georgie smiled back, but just as she lowered her face down to his, she stopped. The memory of her son getting mauled to death by walkers and then her shooting him in the head popped immediately into her mind and she backed away; a slight hitch in her breath.

Rick could the change as it happened.

The sparkle in her bright eyes almost instantly faded. The short-lived joy in seeing him gave way to heartache and he knew why.

Reaching a hand up to console her, Rick watched how she shied away and turned from him. Tossing her legs over the edge of the bed and planting her feet firmly on the floor, Georgie gripped the mattress and pushed herself up.

"Georgie," Rick called to her.

She didn't respond right away. She went over to their shared dresser and pulled out some fresh clothes and then made a beeline for the door as Rick sat up in bed. "I'm gonna take a shower," she muttered before disappearing from the room.

Rick frowned. A different sigh escaped his lips as he mimicked her movements by sitting upon the edge of the bed. Rick, however, didn't get right up. He turned his head, glancing at the bedside clock and saw it was nearly noon. He'd get back on a better sleep schedule soon enough, but that wasn't what bothered him at the moment. Hunching forward with his elbows resting upon his knees and with his head in his hands, all that clouded his mind was wondering about how he could help Georgie through one of the most difficult times of her life.

"Rick?"

For half a second, Rick perked up; thinking it was Georgie. But, before he even turned around, he knew it wasn't. For one, the voice belonged to a man.

Standing up, Rick threw a look toward the door and saw Glenn leaning against the frame.

"What's up?" Rick asked nonchalantly; walking slowly around the bed. Then, with a bit more concern, asked, "Is it Carl?"

"What—no. And, oh, I'm glad to hear he's awake and gonna be okay. I'll probably stop by the infirmary a bit later to see him. But, yeah…no, it's not about Carl. It's Aaron. He was suggesting we gather up a few of us to discuss some future supply runs. With the streets clear, and with cleanup and the wall getting fixed underway, we're gonna need to restock plenty of our supplies that got ruined in the, uh…during everything."

Rick nodded. "Yeah," agreed, reaching for his boots. "We're coming together as a community now. We need to work together and make it stronger, don't we?"

Glenn smiled. "Yeah, we do."

With a small smirk as he slipped on a boot, Rick looked up at the younger man through his eyebrows. "I don't think I mentioned it yet, but congratulations." Off Glenn's brighter smile, Rick snickered. "So you successfully knocked up the farmer's daughter."

A hearty laugh slipped from between Glenn's lips as he nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Without another word, he took his leave from Rick and Georgie's bedroom as Rick finished putting on his boots. Then, as Rick stood there alone, he looked around and placed his hands on his narrow hips. Casting his eyes downward, he listened carefully and could hear water running from the bathroom.

Knowing Georgie would return to the bedroom to brush through her hair, he walked over to the mirror in their room and picked up the tube of lipstick she had brought with her back from Jake's house. It was a shade he remembered her wearing the night of Deanna's party but hadn't worn again since. After all, there hadn't really been occasion for any of the ladies to don makeup. Removing the cap, he twisted the tube until the lipstick rose up and he brought it to the mirror to write a brief message.

_I love you_.

It was simple, true, and he hoped it gave her something to smile about at least once more that day.

* * *

For three long weeks, Rick and Georgie were like ships in the night with each other. Her grief was something she was still having a difficult time with and to distract herself from it, she focused her energies on Judith or the expansion of Alexandria that the construction crew now had underway to include a proper church and two, half-finished homes, as well as space for growing crops down the line. The days were tiresome, and she worked herself hard, no matter what the task, but when she was overtired at the end of the day, she was able to fall asleep so quickly and soundly that she more often than not wound up with dreamless nights. That meant no nightmares of revisiting the last moments of her son's life, which sometimes jogged up the memory of her daughter's death as well.

As for Rick, he found himself so caught up in the whirlwind of strengthening Alexandria, inside and out, along with Carl's continuing recovery, that he usually had a moment for himself. When he did, it was mostly in the evening and he was just as tired as most everyone was and liked to usually just lie on the couch and watch whatever Disney DVD was playing to keep Judith entertained before she was put up to bed for the night.

Plenty of attempts had been made by him to talk with Georgie about how she was doing, as well as eventually trying to figure out how to find their footing with each other again. It had just been a rough few weeks of _everyone_ finding their footing in the new Alexandria Safe Zone, and Georgie was the one person he wanted to be able to talk to about it at the end of every night, but they weren't even talking.

It's not that they were fighting either. There was just this awkward silence stuck between them and, after a while Rick couldn't understand why it was so difficult for them to find their way back to each other. He understood losing her son was difficult, but he didn't understand why she was pushing him away. All he had wanted was to be there for her and he couldn't even do that.

It wasn't that they hadn't spoken a word to each other in all that time. They had. But it was pointless conversations; like small talk about the weather or the community. They would briefly discuss Judith or Carl; specifically how Carl was doing great with each passing day. One sore subject seemed to be talking about Maggie's pregnancy and Rick couldn't wrap his head around that one at the moment. Not Maggie being pregnant, but why Georgie would visibly shut down when he brought it up. She would find something else of interest to her and excuse herself from his presence.

After a while, the others, and not just in their immediate household, but within the community, could also sense the relationship between Rick and Georgie was getting rocky. The relationship was still young, and its official start date could easily be determined as the night Rick openly kissed Georgie in full view of the others while they rode out that storm in the barn. Even though Georgie had only been part of Team Family for nine weeks and officially with Rick as his girlfriend for nearly six, she had taken up such a dominant position within the group as the lady at his side and with her history of leading two previous groups. The others knew something was off with their leader and his lady, and that it stemmed, for the most part, from her loss, and they found themselves walking on egg shells whenever talking to either Rick or Georgie and mentioning their significant other. It made for plenty of secondhand tension.

At the beginning of one particularly uneventful day, Rick and Georgie's moods seemed to emulate the sky; dark, grey and stormy. The last time it had rained was during the night a few weeks before and now it seemed the sky was about to open up and drown anything at any given moment. And they sky wasn't the only thing about to open up.

For Rick, the day started out with old injuries and his joints aching. He contributed it to the weather and cursed under his breath as he moved around the house and especially so when he realized there was no aspirin left in any of the medicine cabinets in the house. When Carol asked if he was already, he snapped at her without realizing he'd done it and stormed out of the house to head to the infirmary to see if Denise could spare a bottle or, at the very least, a couple pills for the time being.

On his way there, for whatever reason, he felt the urge to turn around and glanced over his shoulder to see Georgie was walking out of the house with Judith on her hip. Faltering in his pace, Rick turned back to face forward and grumbled to himself, wondering where Georgie was going with Judith when they sky could open up on them at any moment. As he neared the infirmary, he looked back again, but no longer saw his girlfriend or his daughter and frowned; wondering where they'd disappeared to.

For Georgie, her day started out rather okay, but that was until she'd consulted a calendar kept in the kitchen of the main house to know what day it was. When she saw the date, her heart began to ache and the only thing that seemed to help in the slightest was getting Judith and holding the little girl tight. She had been upstairs in her surrogate daughter's bedroom, changing her diaper and putting her in a cute little dress when she heard Rick bark something at someone downstairs. He was already out the door when she made it down to the kitchen with Judith, where she found Carol sighing heavily.

When Georgie asked if she was alright, Carol nodded she was and then plastered on a forced smile as she came over to kiss Judith's cheek before disappearing out of the kitchen toward the laundry room. Looking at Judith, Georgie smirked as the little girl looked back at her with a bright little smile and then walked out of the house with her on her hip. As she made her way onto the sidewalk, she noticed Rick looking back at her but she had turned her attention to Judith instead. After he turned away, she went up to the porch of their group's second home and walked right in, as they all did between the two houses.

Inside, Rosita was hunched over at the kitchen island, stirring a spoon into a coffee mug and Abraham was just walking behind her as he slapped her ass right at the moment Georgie entered. The couple glanced up and smiled their initial greeting.

"To what do we owe this visit, Little Red?" Abraham inquired.

Despite the ache in her heart, Georgie found amusement in Abraham's words. He'd taken to calling her Little Red recently when she began helping with the construction crew. When she had asked him why that name, he replied simply that he was also ginger and bigger than her, so he was quite obviously Big Red to her Little Red.

"I actually needed Rosita," Georgie replied.

"I get it," Abraham sniffed. "Girly shit. Gonna talk about your periods or something?"

"Yes, because that's what women do," Rosita muttered sarcastically with a roll of her eyes before grinning over at Georgie.

"I haven't had a period in exactly five years, so, no. No period talk," Georgie retorted, sauntering up to the island as Abraham grimaced and chose that very moment to make himself scarce.

"Why's that?" came Eugene's inquisitive voice as he entered the kitchen from the back hallway.

"_Eugene_," Rosita chastised, shaking her head. "Barriers, dude."

"Sorry. Was just curious why a woman of your general youth and vitality wouldn't still have a menstrual cycle to contend with every month."

"It's okay," Georgie assured, eyeing Rosita and shifting Judith from one hip to the other. "I was hemorrhaging excessively after giving birth to my daughter. Doctor tried a few things to stop it before having to resort to a peripartum hysterectomy. Therefore, no more periods; which is the only good thing that came out of it."

"So…" Rosita began, her lips parting as a thought bubble formed in her head. "Exactly five years ago that happened?"

Georgie nodded sadly, and when tears began to fall down her face, Rosita knitted her brow together and hurried around the island to throw her arms around her fellow female.

Eugene, for all the intelligence he had, was inept at understanding what was going on or what Georgie and Rosita were both alluding to.

"I'm so sorry," Rosita muttered as Judith squirmed between both women.

"So, you can't have any more kids?" Eugene was slowly starting to grasp. "Is that why your sad?"

Georgie shook her head, wiping her tears with one hand as Rosita stepped back. "No, I've come to terms with that. Although, it still sucks."

"Then…" The wheels in Eugene's head kept spinning. "Why are you sad? Is it Rick? I saw him walking up the street from my bedroom window a few minutes ago and he seemed to be in a right mood."

Rosita turned and practically glared at him. "Seriously, Eugene; can you just…not?"

"I had my hysterectomy five years ago, today; the day my daughter was born," Georgie answered, letting out a shaky sigh. "Today's my daughter's fifth birthday."

"Oh," Eugene muttered lamely. "My apologies."

Georgie shrugged, focusing on the twenty-something Latina. "This is something I just couldn't talk to Carol or Michonne about, because they're in the same boat, having lost their children, too. I needed someone who _doesn't_ understand to talk to about it."

Rosita nodded sympathetically and then glanced over at Eugene. "Eugene, why don't you go take a walk or something?" It wasn't a suggestion, and he easily understood that. He quickly made a beeline for the front door and, as soon as he disappeared outside, Rosita pulled Georgie over to the kitchen table for her to sit down. "Alright, let's talk. I'm all ears."

"I'm sorry. I'm not keeping you from a shift at the infirmary, am I?"

Rosita waved it off and smirked. "Denise will be okay. And Tara's there twenty-four seven now, so I can take be as late as I want."

As Judith leaned forward and rested her head down upon Georgie's chest, Georgie couldn't help but take comfort in the gesture. "I'm not…I'm not over it. I try to be. I keep trying to get past it, and I'm thankful I have Judith and Carl in my life to transfer these feelings to. I mean, I'm not using their presence in my life as a substitute for my kids. I love Rick's kids as my own and I would die for them just the same. To me, they _are_ my kids. Hell, Judith even calls me 'mama' now."

"Aww," Rosita smiled, reaching a hand out to brush her fingers against the blonde tufts of Judith's hair.

"Yeah," Georgie agreed to the sentiment. "It means a lot to hear when she says it. It makes up for not being able to have any more kids of my own flesh and blood. Something I would've loved to be able to have with Rick in the future." She shrugged and looked down at the top of Judith's head. "I feel a bit bad, though. I mean, Carol, Michonne and Maggie have been in her life longer. You, Tara and I all came together with the others on the same day pretty much. I feel like if she should be calling anyone 'mama' it should be one of them."

Rosita frowned. "They're not the ones sharing a bed with Rick. _You're_ more or less his common law wife now, if you think about. He's Carl and Judith's father, so the woman in his life would be the mother. The rest of us lucky ladies get to be aunts." Then, after a shrug, Rosita stared off toward the front of the house and when saw Eugene pacing on the porch, clearly unsure what to do with himself today. "Maybe someday I'll get to be a mom, too, and then you get to be an aunt."

Georgie smirked and embraced Judith a bit tighter. "That'd be nice. Been a while since I was an aunt, too."

"You have siblings in the old world?"

"A sister and a brother," Georgie answered. "My sister was the only other one in the family with kids, though. A boy and a girl like me. What about you?"

"I had a brother and a nephew. They're gone."

"Yeah. Sucks ass, don't it?"

Rosita nodded in agreement. "Yep." Tapping her fingernails on the table's surface, she bit her lips together in contemplation and then glanced over into the kitchen. "No wallowing today, okay? You and Carol are both crafty when it comes to make good, edible food out of barely anything. I'm sure you and I can whip up something close to a birthday cake in honor of your daughter. How's that sound?"

Georgie nodded. "I'd really like that."

Standing up, Rosita scurried over to the front door and stuck her head outside. She muttered something to Eugene who then came back inside and smiled a shy smile and then reached his hands out for Judith, much to Georgie's confusion.

"Eugene will keep an eye on Judith here in the living room while we putter in the kitchen," Rosita explained, and then gestured toward the couch. "Eugene: lay a blanket down or something for her to sit on. We got some plastic cups in the cupboards she can play with."

As Eugene went about "babysitting", Rosita and Georgie went through the supplies in the second house's kitchen to see what they could use; settling on a box of cornbread mix, a bag of stale marshmallows and a can of sweetened condensed milk.

"This'll be interesting," Rosita remarked with a laugh.

Georgie simply smiled a small smile without saying anything in return. She just hoped baking a "cake" would help ease today's new, elevated grief.

* * *

Rick had successfully acquired a new bottle of aspirin from Denise and simultaneously checked in on Carl, who was up and around, working on his depth perception skills. Despite being given the clear to come home by the end of the week by Denise, Rick's mood kept him from being as excited as he wanted to be. Yes, of course, he was beyond elated to have his some come home. It was the best news he'd had in a while, but other things were bogging him down.

He was aware that supplies in the community were gradually thinning, and they would need to start making trips outside the walls again to scavenge. He'd have to work out who would be taking those runs, when and where. Plus there was the situation of getting crops planted, but they couldn't really do that until the wall expansion was complete because they were currently lacking in space needed for crops. A few times the solar panel grids had shorted but luckily Eugene had the know-how to fix the problem with whatever they had within the community, but it had still been a headache because some of their food stock that required refrigeration had gone bad in the day the power had been down. A small handful of the original Alexandrians had complained about that to Rick as if he could just snap his fingers and make it better and, even though he appeased them with assuring words, it got under his skin all the same and he would've rather figuratively bitten their heads off.

Then there was the matter of Georgie. Her grief had been arduous on him, just as much as it had been on her. His love for her hadn't changed, but he was just aggravated in the distance she kept him at. Because of it, he became a bit petty. Whenever he had tried talking to her, she barely responded or seemed to avoid him, so he just busied himself and kept his distance, figuring if she wanted him, then she could come to him. He understood she was having a hard time of it, but she wasn't letting him in to help her and that pissed him off. Maybe he didn't have a right to be pissed off like that or maybe he did. Either way, he was.

And today he just felt so beyond aggravated. Every stupid little thing that he could normally ignore or brush off was grating on his nerves and his fuse was getting shorter and shorter. Whenever he would finally go off, he wondered who the unlucky soul would be to receive the brunt of his aggression. Heaven help whoever it ended up being.

Leaving the infirmary, he had been so clouded with grumpy thoughts that he hadn't been paying attention to what he was doing and tripped while stepping down from the porch. His reflexes were quick enough and he stopped himself from falling forward, but it didn't stop him from barking out a few choice expletives and kicking childishly at the pavement.

Aggravated, and now flustered, Rick stalked off down the road to head back home. With the sky the way it was, the construction crew had chosen to sit the day out with working on the wall, which Rick seemed to take issue with now. In his already irritated mind, he saw it as wasted opportunity. After all, it wasn't raining yet, and that time could've been spent working on expanding the wall to get Alexandria closer to being able to plant those damned crops already so they can depend less on supply runs for their own food and instead on themselves.

Spying Abraham standing in the gazebo with Sasha, while nursing what looked to be a cup of coffee, Rick practically sneered.

"Enjoying your day off?" He shouted out sarcastically.

Abraham didn't register the anger in Rick's voice right away and responded with a nod and a smile while holding his coffee cup up as a sort of hello. After a moment, the ginger man knitted his brow together in somewhat of a scowl and then looked away from Rick to Sasha, who seemed confused.

Rick didn't wait for any sort of response. He kept on walking.

Once he was home, he found the downstairs living space empty. Carol wasn't in the kitchen where he'd last seen her, he knew Michonne was on watch and, last he remembered, Georgie was upstairs with Judith. Part of him almost assumed Carl was home, upstairs in his room with comics, but then remembered he was still at the infirmary. For half a second he even forgot Tristan wasn't home either. Part of him considered maybe the boy would be upstairs as well, but then remembered he was dead. He remembered it was his plan for all of them to make a metaphoric run for it outside the walls to reach the vehicles they'd left behind at the quarry was what contributed to Tristan's death and Carl's injury.

Clenching his jaw, Rick went over to the kitchen counter and grabbed a glass from a cupboard, filled it with water from the tap and then removed the aspirin bottle from his pocket. Taking out two, little while pills, he tossed them into his mouth and then knocked them down his throat with a healthy gulp of water.

Thinking on everything that had fallen apart and everything he couldn't seem to fix, Rick clenched his jaw and, without realizing it, he was clenching the glass a bit too hard. When it shattered under his grasp, the sound jolted him out of her reverie and he cursed himself at the sight of broken glass on the counter and on the floor and the considerable cut in the palm of his hand as blood dripped from it.

"Hey, what was that?" Carol questioned, quickly darting into the kitchen.

Rick looked up at her and shook his head. "I…I broke a glass."

"You obliterated it, by the looks of it," she quipped with a raise of her eyebrow, looking at the mess. "What did it do?"

"Nothing," Rick bit out. "I wasn't paying attention."

Carol immediately reached for a dustpan and brush kept in the hall closet and crouched down to sweep up the glass. "Is it that time of the month? Because you're sure in a ripe mood today."

Rick sighed and reached for a towel to press into the palm of his hand to stop the bleeding. "Sorry about that," he muttered, remembering how he barked at her earlier. "Just having a bad day."

"Yeah," Carol nodded, standing up and dumping the broken glass out of the dustpan and into the garbage bin hidden in the cupboard under the sink. "No shit." Setting the dustpan on the counter, she turned and reached for a rag, which dampened with cold water and then grabbed for Rick's hand. When she removed the towel he was using, she replaced it with the wet rag. Watching him wince slightly, she looked up at his face and almost smirked. "It's barely past noon. How can the day be that bad already?"

Rick shrugged. "Just a bunch of things finally coming together to rub me the wrong way, I guess."

"Well, maybe you should take some time for yourself and rub things the right way like the rest of us."

Immediately narrowing his gaze, Rick raised an eyebrow. "Did you mean that the way it sounded or was that unintentional?"

It was Carol's turn to shrug. "Take it however you want it to mean," she replied coyly. Stepping back, she walked over to the far end of the counter nearest the double doors leading onto the front porch and grabbed the small First Aid kit. Opening it up, she removed a tube of generic antibiotic ointment and a gauze bandage to help him with tending to his wound. "I get that it's been a tough few weeks for you, but it's been tough on all of us. It doesn't mean you take it out on everyone. This place is finally starting to work. The people here, the ones that were here before us, are finally upping their game. They've seen what it takes to survive now, and they understand it. The night Tristan…" Carol sighed, removing the wet rag, plopping it down into the sink and then dabbing some of the ointment around Rick's cut. "The night Tristan…the night he died…the people here came together with us and we fought for this place together. So, if that's something you're still worrying about, you can stop."

"I'm not worried about that," Rick insisted, watching Carol's face; especially when she brought up Tristan and seeing the heartbreak that momentarily flashed upon it. "I'm worried about the expansion, and the gradually depleting food supply in this community. I'm worried about Carl, and how he'll mentally adapt to his new condition and not just how he's physically adapting. I'm worried about Maggie, that I hope her pregnancy ends better than it did for Lori, and…"

When Rick let his thought process stall, it wasn't because he forgot what he wanted to say; he merely hated feeling that pang of longing deep in his chest when he thought about it.

"Georgie?" Carol muttered, saying the word for him.

Rick nodded, casting his eyes down at his hand she was now bandaging up. "Yeah," he admitted. "She won't talk to me. It's like pulling teeth when I try to talk to her. I know she's having a rough go of it, and I just want her to be able to talk to me about it. I mean, when she thought she'd lost Tristan before, back in Greensboro, she was able to accept it and move forward for the sake of the group after a few days. Now…"

Carol frowned. "Greensboro was an entirely different situation from what happened here, Rick," she remarked, almost chastising. "In Greensboro, all there'd been was decayed body of a boy who might've been her son. She never saw that death and there was no positive way to determine that really had been her son aside from the fact that boy also had blonde hair, wore the same Cub Scout uniform and Tristan's drawing was in the house. We know now, whoever those boys we found were, they were simply friends of Tristan and one happened to also have blonde hair. Georgie was able to move on because there still that sliver of a chance her son wasn't the dead blonde kid in that room. There was a chance he was still alive and that kept her going, even though the likelihood of Tristan being dead outweighed the likelihood of him being alive."

"Yeah, I suppose," Rick agreed, pulling his bandaged hand back from Carol.

"Not to mention, we were all on the road then. Living hand to mouth with walkers literally at our backs. Georgie couldn't afford to focus on her loss anymore when she was helping to keep your kids alive as well as fighting for her own," Carol continued, leaning her hip against the counter as she folded her arms across her chest. "Losing Tristan that night the wall came down was different. She saw him getting attacked right in front of her and she made the tough decision to kill him to spare him further pain and prevent him from coming back. She killed her own child, Rick. She's had to put a bullet in _both_ her children's head. Honestly, I think she's doing pretty damn well, all things considered. She went right to work helping the construction crew and taking care of Judith and sitting with Carl, and I know why, because I do the same."

"And what's that?"

"She's gotta keep moving. She's gotta keep herself active and distracted, because if she stops for one minute, and she's left alone with her thoughts for too long, she'll only be able to focus on her grief and it'll eat her up. By doing what she's doing, by not talking about it with you, while maybe not ideal, she's moving on the best way she can right now." Carol shrugged. "There's no timetable for grief. She'll might get better soon enough and then have days where she's inconsolable. Just…if you love her, just be there for her."

"Of course I love her," Rick barked, again not meaning to do it. His features immediately and apologetically softened.

"Then just tell her you love her. Remind her randomly, do little things to show you're there for her and you're not going anywhere." Pushing away from the counter, Carol dropped her hands to her sides. "Just don't rush her to get past this."

Sighing, Rick shook his head. "It's not her grief I'm upset with, or how long it's taking her. You saw me when I lost Lori, and how long it took me to get to a better place. Hershel had to take me aside and tell me I couldn't just check out. I had people who cared about me. I had children who needed me. I had a group to protect. I couldn't afford to only wallow in my grief and distract myself with other things when we had pressing issues to attend to."

"And what pressing issues does Georgie need to tend to that aren't already being taken care of?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Rick commented gruffly, pressing his fingers to his chest. "That's what _I_ did and what_ I_ couldn't do. I know Georgie's grief isn't gonna be something she's just gonna get over at any moment; I just don't think the distractions are helping her. They won't help her move on. They won't help her accept Tristan's gone because she's in the denial stage. Avoiding thinking about his death, not talking about it, doing anything else to keep herself constantly on the go isn't doing her any favors."

"What do you want her to do then?" Carol was genuinely curious.

"I don't want her to hold it all in. I watch her every day; the way she goes, and goes and goes. She keeps herself busy as a bee and when she gets home at night she passes right out and then starts all over again the next day. Rinse and repeat. It's not healthy. I know you've seen it, too."

Carol nodded. "I have."

"She doesn't smile anymore, Carol. Not even when she's holding Judith. Or, if she does, it's faint; just enough to pass as doing fine when she's actually not. She holding it all in and it's eating at her and she won't talk to me. When I try to ask her how she's doing any particular day, she either ignores me or walks away. I feel like I'm being punished, like she blames me for Tristan being dead and I don't know what else to fucking do."

Carol looked Rick in the eye, but his gaze was quick to avert. His jaw was clenched, his lips pressed firmly together and his breathing was heavy as it expelled from his flaring nostrils. He was angry; not at himself or Georgie, but just with the situation they'd found themselves stuck in.

His eyes looked tired, and a little sad.

After a moment, Carol furrowed her brow when she saw Rick's eyes were starting to water and that his chin was quivering. In that moment, he looked like a hurt, little boy and all she could do was offer a sympathetic smile as she lifted her hands to rest upon the sides of his scruffy face.

"Oh, sunshine."

"I just want her to talk to me," he whispered.

Before Carol could respond, the sound of footsteps coming up the front steps caught both their attention, followed by the sound of Judith babbling incoherently along with a random 'mama' thrown in here and there.

Turning away from each other, Rick brought his non-wounded hand up to his face and wiped his eyes before the tears could fall and Carol stepped forward toward the door just as Georgie walked into the house with Judith on one hip and a pan with some sort of cake in her free hand.

"Hey there, whatcha got?" Carol asked, craning to see what food Georgie had come home with.

Georgie looked somewhat surprised to see both Rick and Carol standing there. For whatever reason she thought Rick was still out and about after leaving the house earlier that morning. Shifting Judith around, she kicked the door closed with the heel of her boot and then moved forward to set the pan down on the kitchen island.

"It's a cake," she replied simply.

"What kind of cake?"

"It's just cornbread. It's all Rosita could find next door. The frosting is sweetened condensed milk and melted marshmallows."

Carol touched a finger down upon one corner of the frosting and then brought a tiny dollop to her lips to taste. "Not bad."

"What's the occasion?" Rick asked.

Georgie brought her focus up to him and held his gaze for a second before looking toward the cake. "Do I need an occasion to make a cake?"

Rick frowned. "It's just a question, Georgie. I'm just curious is all."

Somehow sensing the tension building, Carol stepped around to reach for Judith. "Let's see if this one needs a diaper change, shall we?" Successfully scooping the little girl into her arms, Carol was quick to depart from the kitchen and head upstairs.

Rick moved his weight from one leg to the other as he maintained his gaze on Georgie even though she was still looking toward the cake. "Should I guess, if you don't wanna tell me? Denise said Carl can come home by the end of the week. Though, she only just told me that about an hour ago, so I doubt this is a 'welcome home' cake for him."

Biting her lips together, Georgie placed her hands on her hips and looked up at him. "It's a birthday cake," she revealed.

"Is it someone's birthday? You were with Rosita, but I saw Abraham at the gazebo with Sasha. Is it Abraham's birthday? Did you bring the cake here so he wouldn't find it next door until later?"

"It's my daughter's birthday, Rick," she admitted. "Avery would be five today."

Before she could say anything else on the matter, or before Rick could respond, Georgie was crying. Rick instantly felt like such an asshole, but as soon as he made the move to walk around the kitchen island to console her, she threw her hands up and took off for the stairs with her unruly ginger curls flopping around behind her.

A mixture of frustration and sadness filled Rick's chest like a helium balloon, propelling him forward as he took off after Georgie. She had already rounded the middle landing by the time he was at the bottom step.

"Georgie," he called after her, continuing to follow her up the stairs.

The weather not hindering her movements the way they were his, she was easily able to make her way to the upper floor, through the hallway and straight into the room before he reached the top step. When he didn't he noticed Carol discreetly looking out into the hallway as soon as he walked by Judith's room. He didn't focus on her, though, since he was making a beeline for Georgie.

Slipping right into their room, he took the doorknob in hand and pushed it so the door shut loudly; not slammed, but enough to give them both a jolt. In all honesty, he hadn't intended to shut it like that. He'd simply meant to give them privacy, but apparently he didn't know his own strength anymore.

"Georgie, you gotta stop ignoring me," he muttered. He watched the way she stood at the window with her back to him and her arms folded across her chest. "I know you're having a rough time since Tristan died and I know you're doing a lot to take your mind off it, but ignoring me when I just want to talk to you isn't the way to go about it."

"I'm not ignoring you."

"Not talking to me or walking away when I try is pretty much the same thing." Taking a few steps forward, he placed his hands on her arms and stood close enough where he could brush the tip of his nose to her hair if he wanted to. "I'm sorry about what today is. I didn't know, but then again you ain't exactly sharing anything with me lately." Even though his tone was gentle, she still jerked herself away from him. "Georgie…"

She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at him. "I'm not ignoring you," she maintained. "I'm not talking to you because I don't want to talk to you; it's because I don't know what to say. I'm just…there's just a lot of things I'm feeling and I'm processing it all as best as I can, and sometimes it's just too much and I want to stop everything. I don't want to talk, I wanna _do_."

"Is that why you keep going nonstop from morning to night with the wall expansion or the kids?"

Georgie nodded. "Newton's First Law of Motion: an object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force." She lifted her eyes and held onto his gaze. "If I stop moving, I'll get knocked off my feet, and thinking about Tristan, about what I did, it hurts too much. I want to put it behind me and ignore it. I wanna pretend I never found him here. I think maybe never knowing what happened to him would've been so much easier to stomach than actually seeing what happened."

"But what you did was necessary," he insisted.

"It doesn't make it any easier, Rick. I _killed_ my _son_." She looked away, shaking her head. "He was getting the flesh ripped from his face. And there was so much blood…and his screams…oh God." Sinking down onto the edge of the bed, Georgie leaned forward with her face in her hands. "I can still hear him screaming. I still see the blood as clear as I still see the blood gushing from Avery's neck after my brother bit her. I can see hear her trying to cry for me, but choking on the blood as she laid there limp in my arms. I can still feel her in my arms." As Georgie wrapped her arms around her waist, she hunched forward more and Rick sank down onto the mattress behind her. He wrapped his arms around her as well and rested his head down upon her shoulder. "I killed my babies," she cried.

"You didn't kill them," Rick countered. "You stopped their suffering."

"Same difference," she remarked, leaning her head up. "They shouldn't have had to suffer like that. It should've been me."

"Georgie, what happened was beyond horrible, but you can't blame yourself for it. This world is a mess, there's no doubt about that, and there are terrible, scary things out there and it'll always be that way."

"Way to sugarcoat it," Georgie muttered sarcastically.

"I'm not trying to sugarcoat it. It's the truth, and the truth hurts. If I could change what happened I would. Maybe we should've stayed in the other house a little longer. Maybe I should've backed you when you initially suggested Tristan go with Gabriel and Judith to the church, but I didn't. I let him come with us as much as you did. If we gotta place blame on it, I share that equally with you. We should've done things differently, but hindsight is 20/20 and we thought we were doing the right thing. We had no idea what Tristan was gonna do. We had no idea he had a gun and would shoot you and Carl. What happened was his fault, too, and that's an unfortunate reality because he was so young and confused. And, as for what today is, and how your daughter died, I wish I had known you sooner so I could've helped you protect her."

"Could you just…"

"Could I what?"

Georgie huffed out a breath and turned around, causing him to lean back as she looked at him. With pursed lips, she almost seemed to be scowling. "My son was messed up and he almost killed your son, even if that shot was accidental on Tristan's part or not. Either way, Carl lost an eye. He's half blind because of it. The right side of his head was disfigured and it'll change a lot for him. I wish you'd be angry at me because of it. For all your talk about just wanting to talk, I've been watching you just as much as I know you've been watching me. You want to talk but you're internalizing a lot. I know you're angry about what happened to Carl and I want to stop pretending you're not. Every time I sit with him or talk with him, he insists he's okay, but then I see you coming to see him when I'm leaving, or you leaving when I'm coming, and I feel so guilty."

"You want me to yell at you for something that you didn't do?"

"I just want you to stop acting like I'm some delicate flower that's gonna break if you say the wrong thing." Georgie slumped her shoulders and stood up. "I lost my daughter, I lost my son. I'm breaking into a million pieces every time I think of them, but you tiptoeing around me is so aggravating. Every damn morning you ask me how I'm feeling, and I appreciate it. I really do. But please, for the love of God, just stop. I'm hurting, I'm sad, I'm angry, and I'm scared, but I have you and I have Carl, and Judith. My children are dead, but I have yours still. I promised you I would devote my life to protecting them and loving them as my own, and I have. I love you, Rick, but I need you to just stop avoiding conflict with me."

"You think that's what I've been doing? Avoiding _you_?"

"Not _me_. _Conflict_ with me. You don't want to rock the boat. I know I've given you the cold shoulder, and I didn't mean that. I said I haven't wanted to talk because I don't know what to say, but that doesn't mean I don't _want_ to talk. I've don't want to go through this grief alone, and because you haven't wanted to risk a fight with me over it, because you don't want to argue with a mother grieving the loss of her son because you think it'll make you an asshole, you've busied yourself with other things to." Georgie gestured between them with both her hands. "We're locking ourselves into this unhealthy cycle of avoidance and mincing words. Just shout, get angry with me; yell at me if it helps. I'm scared that if we don't hash it out, that we're gonna pull too far apart from each other we won't be able to find our way back to each other and I can't lose you too."

"So you want me to yell and shout? Throw things around and make myself look like an asshole?" Rick was a little confused. He stood up and took a step closer to her as he placed his hands on his hips. "You want me to force a conversation out of you?"

"Yes," she blurted as if she'd just won five hundred dollars on a scratch off ticket. "I know it sounds idiotic, and maybe it doesn't seem to make the most sense, that I'm all over the place with the point I'm trying to make but my feelings are all over the place."

Chewing the inside of his lip, Rick looked around the room. "You want me to yell at you about how I'm feeling."

"Jake and I went to therapy once; literally one time, just after Avery was born. I was suffering post-partum depression and he agreed we should try it to get us back on track. During that first and only session, the doctor had us yell at each other about what was bothering us. It seemed crazy for a first session, and I think maybe that's why we never went back for a second, but I think it actually worked enough to help us refocus on ourselves and our marriage. Obviously, an apocalypse isn't something our marriage could survive and we know how that ended."

Lifting a hand, Rick brushed his right thumb over her left shoulder where her gunshot wound was. She'd had the stitches removed a little over a week ago and it looked to be healing well. However, she tensed when his thumb grazed the young scar so he knew it was still sore, even three and a half weeks after she'd received the wound.

Despite her insisting they should shout and yell, he didn't know what to shout and yell about specifically. Throwing things actually felt more therapeutic. Eyeing the bookshelf next to one of the windows, Rick picked up a book, letting the weight force his hand to droop slightly. He lifted his gaze from the book up to Georgie's face and found her looking at him curiously.

He almost wanted to smirk, but instead steeled his gaze. After all, this was supposed to be serious. Giving the book a grip, Rick turned and tossed it at the wall with a hard thud. The book flopped open, its pages creasing in all the wrong places as it fell to the ground with a secondary thud. Grabbing a second book, he repeated the process, which got the blood in the veins pumping.

"I'm angry that my son lost his eye," he barked, grabbing a third book. "I'm _furious_ I couldn't prevent it." Rick threw the book, accidentally knocking the lamp off the nightstand on his side of the bed. The lamp fell to the ground, the shade popped off, but the bulb somehow didn't shatter. "I'm _terrified_ how Carl's partial blindness will hinder him in this world, of how _vulnerable_ it'll make him!" Turning back toward Georgie, he shouted that part.

Nodding, Georgie grabbed a book and pulled her arm back. Not bothering to hesitate, she flung it fast at the wall above their bed, which resulted in the artwork that hung there getting knocked off and landing onto the mattress. "I want my children back," she muttered. Turning toward the dresser, she grabbed up a small jewelry box she never used and heaved it at the wall where the painting was, causing it to leave a serious dent in the plaster. "I want…I want…"

"What do you want?" Rick asked, seeing she was having a hard time spitting it out.

Turning to face him, Georgie's shoulders slumped and she pouted while tipping her head to the right and throwing her arms up at her sides as if to shrug out an "I don't know" at him. When her arms dropped back down, she released a shaky breath. "It's something else I can't get back, and wanting it makes me feel terrible."

Rick mirrored her by cocking his head to the left as he took a step closer to her. "What is it?"

"I want so bad to be able to give you another child. I want to be a mom again, but I never can. I always wanted more than the two I had, and when I couldn't, it broke me. I feel bad because my two should've been enough, and they were. But wanting another now, after losing the ones I had makes me feel horrible, as if I'm trying to replace them." Her pout turned abruptly to a frown. "And I see Maggie and Glenn starting out with her pregnancy and I'm kinda jealous. I know I have Carl and Judith in my life and they can be enough for me, and know they can't replace Tristan or Avery, but…life is going on. I wanted to create life again."

Bringing his hands to the sides of her face, Rick let his fingers slide across her cheek and then pushed her hair back as he entwined them within her ginger locks. He didn't say anything. He simply looked her in the eye and smiled at her with a mix of sadness and comfort.

"I feel like such a mess," Georgie whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "I don't want to be this person. I can't just get over it all, but I don't want to be constantly wallowing it in, and I don't know what to do. I hate how this feels."

"It's not gonna feel good for a long while, but that's because of how much you loved your kids and always will. But it can get better. It has to."

"I hope so."

"We just…we gotta think about the good things."

"Like Carl coming home," she muttered.

Rick nodded, his smile becoming less sad. "Exactly like that," he agreed. "Judith is gonna take her first steps any day now. She's already managing to stand up on her own before she falls back down onto her ass."

As a smile reached Georgie's lips, a small laugh escaped. "She faceplanted yesterday morning. She took half a step forward, teetered and went right down. I almost laughed but then she cried and I felt bad."

"Is that where she got that red, rash-looking mark on her nose?" he inquired, looking back and forth from her right eye to her left, practically drinking in the sight of her. The fact that they were truly talking again just felt great and his love for her was so easily reaffirmed by simple conversation.

"Yeah," Georgie nodded. "She was in here with me and I was looking for where—"

She didn't get the chance to finish the sentence.

Rick had leaned in and pressed his lips against in a sudden and deep kiss. Georgie didn't react at first; she just stood there, caught off guard for a moment, but only a moment. In a flurry of motion, Georgie's hands grabbed for the material of the white T-shirt he wore and pulled his body flush against hers as she reciprocated the kiss. This closeness and intimate connection felt almost brand new. It had been since the morning after Tristan died that they had kissed each other, let alone anything else, and that was little over three weeks before. This kiss was three weeks overdue and, as cliché as it sounded, it was a breath of fresh air.

The second the managed to break apart, a loud clap of thunder echoed in the grey, afternoon sky. Looking each other in the eye, Rick and Georgie found themselves smiling at each other again. Her sadness and his worries weren't gone, but they were figuring out a way to set them aside for the time being to remember what else was important in their lives, and that was each other.

Georgie's children being gone wasn't going to change, her inability to ever have more children, and Carl having only one eye along with an awkward road to recovery ahead of him wasn't going to change. Rick and Georgie could rest easy in the knowledge that at least Carl and Judith were still alive and healthy. With the walls secured again and the expansion underway, everyone in the community stood a great chance of living normal lives again.

Life could definitely be better. Life _had_ to go on.

"I love you," Rick whispered, leaning in to brush his lips against hers once more.

Warmth spread all over Georgie's body as she allowed herself to let his words seep into her every pore and encompass her completely. The last three and a half weeks since losing her son had been the absolute worse and, yes, she had pushed Rick away, but not because she was avoiding him and didn't want him comforting her in her time of grief. She just didn't know how to grieve such a loss because the last time she had suffered such a loss with her daughter, she had been alone then and forced to go it alone anyway. She _wanted_ Rick close, but felt like she couldn't get close. But Georgie didn't want to go it alone anymore. Her going to Rosita that morning to talk about Avery was her first step of opening up and moving forward. She was ready to start working on moving on. Even though she would never truly get over her son's death and what she had to do to spare him all that suffering, she couldn't deny it would get easier in time and that she would be able to live with it the same way she'd been able to live with her daughter's death. Obviously, it still hurt, as today being Avery's birthday had anything to show for it, but she would be okay.

Releasing her grip on his shirt, Georgie dragged her fingers up from his chest and then up to the sides of his face. She smiled affectionately up at him. "I really lucked out with having you in my life." The tears she blinked away weren't sad tears anymore. They were happy, but she was done crying for the day and refused to let anymore fall. "I love you, too."

Closing his eyes, Rick tipped his head forward and brushed the tip of his nose against hers before kissing her again. Hearing her say those words was a weight off his shoulder. He had been worried here and there that her grief and his worries would shove a wedge too far between them for them to come back together. But, everything they'd gone through together in the last two months and then some of knowing each other couldn't keep them apart. If anything, it brought them closer. That first couple of days alone saw them go from strangers to great friends, and by the end of the month they were in love.

These days it didn't take long to know what or who you wanted. With life the way it was, you had to enjoy every moment because you never knew if you'd get a tomorrow.

As their kiss deepened again, Rick's arms snaked around Georgie's waist and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Outside, overhead, thunder clapped loudly once more and the skies suddenly opened up to release heavy sheets of rain.

As the torrential rainstorm carried on outside, Rick and Georgie began to carry on inside their room.

Their hands began to roam each other's bodies in a desperate attempt at playing catch up where the physical aspects of their relationship lie. Hastily, clothes were peeled off and tossed carelessly to the floor. As they dropped down onto the bed, Rick grabbed the painting that Georgie had knocked down onto the mattress and shoved it to the floor along with the jewelry box she had thrown. Both items gave a resounding thud, but were nowhere loud enough to match the booming of the thunder and lightning show raging outside.

With Georgie on her back, naked and vulnerable under his gaze, Rick kicked off his boots and shimmied his black jeans down off his hips until they pooled around his ankles. They were so flustered with each other and so anxious, neither could wait for him to remove his pants completely. She spread her legs wide enough for him to lay between them and then wrapped them around his waist to draw him in once he was positioned just so.

Disregarding any need either of them wouldn't normally had for foreplay, Rick thrust into Georgie and the sound of gasp of delight she made was music to her ears. He buried his face into her shoulder, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around her back as he pounded deeply into her. His grunts and groans echoed off the bedroom walls, and his breath hitched occasionally when Georgie rolled her hips or thrust up to match his movements.

Running her fingernails down from his shoulders to his chest, Georgie palmed his pecs and gave him a slight shove so he wasn't completely on top of her. Lifting his face to look at hers, he slowed his thrusts down and saw she was trying to shift from underneath him. Giving him a more coaxing shove, she successfully knocked him over so that he was lying on his back. In doing so, their bodies "disconnected" for a moment, but only long enough for her to climb on top and guide him back inside.

Placing his hands at the tops of her legs, he massaged her inner thighs with his thumbs while she hunched forward, letting her ginger curls fall in front of her face as the ends tickled his. He blew them out of the way and leaned his head back more into the mattress as she rocked against him, thrusting down as he matched her by thrusting up in time with her.

As Georgie began to sit up straighter, she reached behind her to rest her hands on his upper thighs, heaving her breasts forward as she arched her back in the process. Their movements weren't as frenzied as when they first started, but they hadn't quite slowed down either. Yet, at the same time, as he watched the way she bit down on her bottom lip and closed her eyes to focus on the sensation gradually beginning to build within her, Rick felt like time had slowed down around them.

Looking up at her, if felt like he was in one of those slow motion sex scenes from a movie.

She looked perfect.

He loved her so much.

As a thought popped into his head, it renewed his vigor for her rather abruptly and he forced himself to sit up and wrap his arms around her waist to pull her chest against his. The movement caught her off guard, but she smiled at him nevertheless and reacted by cupping his face with her hands. When their lips met and their tongues slipped into each other's mouths, their respective moans got louder as their bodies got nearer to the big finish.

When Rick came, he felt like he had gone temporarily blind. But, then, everything began to take shape again. As he spilled into her, his cock twitched and his entire body felt like it was tingling all over. His grip around her waist loosened and he fell back onto the mattress, letting a deep breath of elation escape while Georgie continued to ride out her approaching orgasm. When it arrived, she clenched her inner walls around him in such a delicious way it caused him to practically hiss. Her body shook, and her cry of completion sounded better to him than any song he'd ever listened to.

Gracelessly, she slumped down upon his chest and let out a content sigh; her hair falling around her shoulders in magnificent disarray. Georgie rested her face sideways, her cheek upon his shoulder so that the tip of her nose could nuzzle the scratchy underside of his jaw. Without having to be asked, Rick wrapped his arms around her upper body in an all-encompassing hug to keep her there with him as they both let their heartbeats return to a normal beat and so their breathing steadied.

Glancing at Georgie out the corner of his eye, Rick smirked. The storm outside seemed like it would be an all-day rager and that was fine with him. He had promised to check back in on Carl later and knew Carol was good with continuing to take care of Judith, so Rick took comfort in knowing he could stay right where he was with Georgie for as long as he needed. They didn't need to get up out of bed anytime soon unless some terrible emergency arose.

At this rate, however, only one thing would rise again.

Lifting her head, Georgie peered at Rick until he turned his face a bit more to look back at her more properly. They both leaned in and kissed, and then smiled at each other.

"I love you so much," she whispered, the rain pelting their windows providing the soundtrack to their post-coital afterglow. "No matter what I was feeling or what I've been going through, I shouldn't have pushed you away like I was doing. You deserved better than that."

"Bullshit," he replied with an amused smile. "I deserve the best and I got the best." Reaching a hand down, he squeezed her ass, causing her to giggle and bite down on her bottom lip.

"I'm serious though," she pressed. "I'm sorry I pushed away at all."

Rick leaned his head back. "I'm sorry you feel like you gotta apologize to me for how you've needed to grieve. I'm the one that should apologize to you for trying to force you into conversations you weren't ready to have."

"We're both assholes, I guess."

"Yeah, we are," he remarked with a laugh. Turning his face toward her, he watched the way she dropped her head back down onto his shoulder and nuzzled his neck this time. "I came to a realization a few moments ago, about something kind of important."

"You were able to have a deep thought while I was on your dick?" she questioned teasingly. "Damn, I'm off my game."

Rick chuckled in response. Raising his left arm, he patted her back and gestured for her to move. When she sat up a bit and rolled off him, Rick scooted up and propped up a pillow behind his head. Georgie just laid there on her stomach, resting her elbows on the mattress and her chin in the palms of her hand as she stared back at him.

When he knew she was staring, he smiled and flashed the backside of his left hand on her. Then, without saying a word, he reached his right hand over and began to remove his wedding band from his ring finger.

Georgie just watched with an expression he couldn't exactly place.

Holding the ring between his right thumb and index finger, Rick just stared at it.

After a moment, he handed it to Georgie.

"I don't need it anymore," he muttered. "Lori's gone. I have you, and you're who I want for the rest of my life."

Taking the ring from him made her feel like Frodo taking the One Ring in order to dump it into the fiery pits of Mount Doom. Like the fictional ring, it too was precious and had a power that had lauded over him well after Lori's death until now, and the symbolism of him giving the ring to her to do away with it was not lost on her.

Unlike her wedding ring, however, this couldn't be destroyed or repurposed. His marriage, while it had been on the rocks, ended with him still very much in love with Lori and with having had a hard time of getting over that loss. Her marriage ended unofficially when Jake walked out nearly two years before, and after everything he'd done since and up until his death at Rick's hand, her ring held no more significance to her other than becoming the conduit for his demise. Georgie had never known Lori, but knew Lori was not a monster like Jake was. Her son loved her and Judith would never know her.

Holding the ring in the palm of her hand, Georgie stared down at it. "I think there might've been a chain in that jewelry box I threw," she remarked. "If not, I'll find one. We'll put the ring on the chain; give it to Judith when she's older."

Rick nodded, agreeing with the idea.

Stretching her arm out, Georgie set the ring down on the bedside table in the meantime for safekeeping.

"Later, though," she continued, glancing back at him with a smile. Pulling herself back up on top of him, Georgie sat up and placed her hands on his taut stomach. "Right now, we need to make up for lost time."

A pleased smile spread easily across Rick's lips. Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around her waist to brace her as he twisted their bodies around and pinned her to the mattress underneath him. Georgie immediately let out a laugh of amusement before he playfully growled at her and buried his face into her neck to suckle her skin while simultaneously grinding his hips against hers. Taking the hint, she wrapped her legs around his waist and brought her hands up to the back of his head, running her fingers through his salt and peppered brown curls.

His lips looked perfectly puffy when he lifted his face to look down at her; staring warmly into her eyes. "I love you," he muttered quietly, as a flash of lightning lit up the bedroom.

"I love you, too," she replied as their lips slowly met in a kiss.

* * *

Outside the bedroom, in the hallway, Carol stood with Judith in her arms. The sounds of Rick and Georgie laughing, followed by eventual moaning, brought an amused grin to her face. As she looked at Judith, Judith looked back at her as if she somehow realized what was going on between her daddy and her new mommy.

"All's well that ends well," Carol remarked, placing a kiss on the top of the girl's head. "Let's go have some cake, shall we?"

As Judith babbled some incoherent response, Carol descended the stairwell and made her way into the kitchen, where she found Michonne seated on one of the stools at the island with Glenn and Maggie standing there, eyeing the cake with curiosity. That is, when they weren't eyeing the ceiling. When she spotted Carol approaching with Judith, Glenn raised an eyebrow and pointed upwards.

"Is everything alright up there? It sounded like World War III for a bit?" he inquired with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"We came in to talk to Rick about some the plans Deanna left for us," Maggie added. "And then we got distracted by whatever is going on up there. We were getting kinda worried there for a minute."

"Oh, everything's fine," Carol assured. "Rick and Georgie are fine. They _were_ arguing a little, but they're kissing and making up right now."

Letting out a snort of amusement, Michonne eyed the older woman and smirked as she stuck her finger into the cake's frosting. "About damn time," she muttered.


	33. Law of Averages

**Author's Note: Two updates in one week. I'm on a roll!**

_**xoxo - Holly**_

* * *

_"__Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose." _— Lyndon B. Johnson

* * *

As the sun shined brightly outside, signifying such a warm day ahead, inside the main house was even more picturesque. The temperature was much cooler thanks to the air conditioning that worked within all the homes in Alexandria, the sounds of Boston's "More Than a Feeling" were wafting through the air and life had just generally found its way of becoming normal again.

While Rick was cutting a new notch into his belt from the little bit of weight he'd put on in the last month, the sound of a consistent thud echoed from out in the hall outside his and Georgie's bedroom. Georgie, meanwhile, was lacing up her boots on the floor beside Judith and pretending to be surprised when the little girl covered her pacifier with a red Solo cup and then lifted the cup off as if she'd just performed a magic trick. Rick grinned happily at his two favorite girls as he pulled his belt on, and then grabbed for his utility belt that was lying on the bed.

"Do you have any toothpaste left?" Michonne asked as she suddenly poked her head into the bedroom, wrapped in a light blue bathrobe and with her dreads pulled into the towel on the top of her head.

"No," Rick replied. "Someone's been borrowing it every day for two weeks."

"Hey don't put that blame on Michonne alone," Georgie quipped, standing up and walking over to the edge of the belt to grab up her own utility belt. "I gave it to her."

The thudding sound became more prominent and Michonne rolled her eyes and smirked at the couple in the bedroom as she turned her head. "Carl!"

"What?" came the teenager's moody response. "Denise says it's PT."

"I can't hear you; come on out," Rick bellowed, a mischievous grin on his lips as he eyed Georgie.

"You're terrible," she snickered.

"What?" Carl pressed.

"Denise says it's PT," both father and son said at the same time as Carl appeared in the doorway holding a tennis ball in his hand.

"You heard me," the teen deduced with a smile that suggested he was contemplating throwing the tennis ball at his father's head.

"Yeah, he heard you," Georgie assured as Rick emitted a small chuckle. Throwing Rick a knowing look, she shook her head at him and adjusted her utility belt around her waist while Rick was finishing up doing the same.

"It's time to change your bandage, and I need to borrow some toothpaste," Michonne informed the boy.

"Okay, but I'm out of toothpaste," Carl responded, tossing the tennis ball to Rick, who promptly caught it. "Bye, Dad."

"See ya later," Rick called after as his son disappeared, most likely to head back into his room to await Michonne changing his bandage for him.

As Georgie shoved her hunting knife into its sheath and her gun into its holster, Georgie turned to see Rick lifting Judith up into his arms; a sight that always brought a smile to her face. As he adjusted the eleven-month-old's dress so it covered her diapered bottom, Georgie reached out a hand and brush her fingers along the soft blonde tufts of hair.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Rick murmured, pressing his lips to his daughter's head.

Running a hand through her own, much thicker and unruly hair, Georgie began to follow Rick out of their bedroom and into the hallway.

"You two be good out there," Michonne advised.

"Yeah, we'll see," Rick replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. "And, thank you," he added, low-fiving Michonne's hand; acknowledging her tending to Carl's bandage change.

As Rick head straight for the stairs, Michonne pointed at him. "Spearmint and baking soda. That's my favorite," she called out.

"Yeah, soon as I get it, you will," he replied, tossing the tennis ball back to her.

Casting her dark eyes over to Georgie, Michonne eyed the redhead knowingly. "Make sure he comes back with that toothpaste or don't let him come back at all."

Georgie laughed. "Will do," she nodded, as both women bumped fists with each other.

Following Rick downstairs, the headed into the kitchen where Carol was already waiting for them, holding a thermos of coffee and plastic baggie of apple slices in either hand. Setting both items onto the counter, the older female grabbed for Judith and then gestured to the thermos and baggie with a nod of her head.

"Some human fuel for the road while you're out on your run," she informed.

While Rick narrowed his eyes at the apple slices, Georgie was more prompt at looking thankful. "Thank you, Carol."

After receiving a nudge to his side from Georgie's elbow, Rick repeated the sentiment. "Yeah, uh, thank you." Then, "What's in the thermos? Spaghetti-O's?"

"It's coffee, you idiot," Carol responded with a roll of her eyes which sparkled a little with amusement. "Drink it sparingly, too. We're running out of it."

"Well, that's why we're going on this run. More supplies."

"Anything you want while we're out there?" Georgie asked, taking the thermos and the baggie into her hands. "Michonne's already made a request for spearmint toothpaste."

"Hmm," Carol considered. "I wouldn't say no to some trashy romance novels."

Rick made a face. "You serious?"

Carol shrugged. "You'll never know."

With a laugh, Georgie shook her head and just patted Rick's back to urge him forward. After they both kissed Judith goodbye, the couple headed out of the house and made their way up the street toward the townhouses where most of the vehicles were parked. As the pair sauntered over to the 2008 Chrysler 300 LX, which Rick had found in the garage of a home they'd scavenged only a week before on another supply run, Daryl came heading over to them with backpack slung over his shoulder.

Just beyond them, the wall around Alexandria had been successfully expanded with a new wall while the construction crew was in the process of dismantling the old wall, revealing an actual church for Gabriel to use, but also doubled as a meeting place like it had for people in past centuries. There were also two more houses added into the mix.

"We good to go?" Daryl asked, shoving a piece of paper into his pocket.

"We are," Rick confirmed, and then gestured to what piece of paper. "What was that?"

"Just a list of shit Denise gave me. Food, medicine, pop."

"What the hell's pop?"

"That's what I said," the archer remarked. "Apparently it's what people in Ohio call soda."

"Not just Ohio," Georgie informed. "Most, if not all, of the states around the Great Lakes say pop. I went to college in Rochester, New York and they all said pop there. I was the oddball out."

Daryl just nodded at that tidbit and then tossed his backpack into the backseat. "You want shotgun?" he asked her.

"Nah," she shook her head. "You boys can have the front for now. I'll take shotgun on the way home."

"Sounds fair."

Rick looked between his woman and his best friend and smiled.

As the three of them climbed into the Chrysler, with Rick behind the wheel, they drove off toward the gate which was pulled open for them by Eugene. As the car idled, Daryl rolled the window down as Eugene pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and leaned in with it as all three inside the car stared back at him. As he unfolded the paper, he handed it off to Daryl.

"I mapped out some of the agricultural supply places in the area. Even if they've been cleaned out, my bet is that the sorghum would be untouched."

"What's sorghum?" Georgie inquired from the backseat.

"That there is a criminally underrated grain that could change the game with our food situation from scary to hunky-dunky."

"Hunky du—never mind," Georgie muttered, leaning back. Better not to tempt the beast, and in this case it meant not to get Eugene on a roll with explain shit.

As 'Mullet Man' looked back and forth between Rick and Daryl, he added, "I'm talking standability, drought tolerance, grain-to-stover ratio that is the envy of all corns. Think about it."

"Thanks," Daryl muttered, looking up at Eugene.

"Alright. Okay."

As Rick stared at Eugene like a jock would after the school nerd tried explaining algebra to him, he began to pulled the car forward as Eugene moved behind the car to close the gate back up after them. Rick turned his attention back forward, maneuvering around the purposefully place cars with sharpened poles sticking out of the windows as a way to ensnare any approaching walkers, and apparently already had with two. Rick had said it was a tactic he'd learned from Morgan when he, Carl and Michonne had found the man going crazy back in King County. So far, it had been a very helpful deterrent in keeping walkers off the walls.

After driving a little while, Rick turned right onto a barren road, kicking up dust in their wake.

"Today's the day," he commented.

"Uh-Huh," Daryl grunted.

"We're gonna find food, maybe some people," Rick insisted. "The law of averages has gotta catch up."

"I don't know. We ain't seen nobody for weeks," Daryl shrugged. "Maybe we ain't gonna find nobody. Maybe that's a good thing."

Georgie leaned forward, resting her arms on the backs of both the men's seats and eyed what Rick was messing with. Reaching a hand out, she slapped Daryl's shoulder to alert him to the situation.

Daryl immediately frowned as Rick held a CD in his hand. "Don't. Don't," he pleaded, as the CD was pushed into the car's player. "Please don't."

"There's no stopping him now," Georgie quipped. "He's been on a kick lately with this music. Makes me want to vomit. This morning it was Boston."

"You like Boston," Rick countered.

"_You_ like Boston, I like _you_. I'm making sacrifices for love."

Rick simply smirked, and when the music began to play he started snapping the fingers of his right hand. "Draws 'em away from home!" he shouted over the volume of the music.

"How? The windows are rolled up."

"Oh, right," Rick muttered, rolling the windows down, which sent a blustering breeze into the car that seemed to whip Georgie's hair in all directions in seconds.

Spitting the strands of her ginger locks out of her mouth, she was forced to pull it all back into a ponytail and was just thankful she'd remembered to bring a hair tie this time. The last run she'd gone on with Rick, a week earlier when he'd found the Chrysler, she hadn't been so fortunate and wound up with a terrible rat's nest for hair by the end of the day. There weren't enough curse words in the English dictionary for her to use that night as she struggled to brush all those snarls out.

The car crested onward a few more miles as they drove down a Daniels Street before Daryl piped up and slapped Rick's arm. "We missed the turn," the archer informed, gesturing to the map Eugene gave them.

"Alright," Rick muttered, pressing his foot to the brake pedal and putting the car in reverse.

Coming to a momentary stop in the middle of the intersection they'd just crossed, Rick pulled the car right and headed down the other road instead. Just up ahead, as clear as day, was a barn with the words 'SORGHUM' painted on the roof. Understandably hard to miss if you were singing along to horrible music like Rick was and only focused on the road ahead.

As they pulled up front of the barn, Rick climbed out first, immediately heading around to the left side of the building with his Colt in hand. Georgie moved around to the right side; both of them looking for any sign of walkers, while Daryl pulled his backpack out and began rifling through it on the ground.

"Hey, hold up," Daryl called, walking up to the barn door with a tool to jimmy the lock open. "It's best to be safe. You cover it?"

"Yeah," Rick nodded heading over to check on Georgie, who came back toward the front and nodded at him that they were clear on the right. As Daryl popped the lock, the door rolled up to reveal a truck inside. Rick checked both sides with his Colt raised. "Yeah, we're good. One more time?" he asked, gesturing to the back of the truck with his gun.

"It ain't locked," Georgie remarked.

As Daryl looked at her, he then brought his attention to the latch which he lifted up. As soon as the door popped open, the three of them stood back in awe. There before them was a horde of supplies.

"Well, how about that?" Rick smiled as Daryl climbed up inside and picked up a can of something before setting it back down. "The law of averages."

"Yep," Daryl mumbled, climbing down as Rick climbed up.

"Rick," Georgie spoke, pointing toward something in a crate in front of him.

Following her gaze, he smirked. "Got it," he said, lifting up a narrow box containing unopened spearmint-flavored toothpaste. Wiggling it around in his hand for a moment, he dropped it back down and looked around. "Let's get this thing going, grab our gear, and come back for the car later. Take another way back."

"See what we can see," Daryl remarked as switched places with Rick to pull the door back down.

"Think it'll start?" Georgie wondered, referring to the truck.

Rick sniffed. "Yeah, I do." Emitting a small chuckle, he looked back at her and smirked. "Sorghum."

As the three of them headed toward the front of the truck. Daryl opened up the passenger door and stepped back for Georgie to slide in first so she could sit in the middle while Rick opened up the driver's door, found keys right in the ignition like some sort of kismet and then hopped inside.

"I could just drive the car back, follow behind you two, y'know?" Georgie offered as she pulled herself to sit in the middle, between Rick and Daryl.

"Nah, we don't separate. Plus, getting this back to Alexandria is more important than the car right now," Rick remarked, starting the engine up and chuckling happily at their good fortune. "Law of averages."

Throwing the gears into reverse, Rick slowly backed the truck up out of the barn until they were on the road. Instead of swinging back the way they came, Rick took them in the opposite direction; which would be a slightly longer way back judging by the map they had, but there wasn't exactly a rush.

"We gotta find that soda," Daryl muttered after a couple minutes.

"Why the soda?" Georgie wondered, grabbing at the list Daryl was looking over in his hands. "Orange Crush. Oddly specific."

"S'pose any brand is fine. It's the flavor Denise wants."

"Why soda, though?"

"She said she wants to surprise Tara with it as some sort of going away present before she goes on that two-week supply run with Heath. Tara was mentioning it in her sleep or whatever."

Georgie smirked. "_Oh_, okay then." Folding the list up, she handed it back to Daryl and then snickered as a thought popped into her head.

Rick, who was focusing on the road ahead of them, turned to look at her for a moment. "What?"

"If I start talking about rubies and diamonds in my sleep would you put those on a list for Daryl to find to surprise me with?" she asked him with a playful smile.

With a roll of his eyes, Rick simply snickered right back at her just as Daryl gestured toward an abandoned gas station up ahead.

"There," the archer muttered. "Gas stations always have vending machines."

As soon as Rick pulled the truck over and parked, halfway under the dilapidated gas pump awning, Daryl hopped right out without missing a beat, a crowbar in hand, while leaving the door wide open for Georgie to climb out. Daryl also wasted no time in heading right up to the building, pulling at the door to try the door to see if it was unlocked before placing a hand to the glass to glance. Peering inside, he squinted while checking for any vending machines and lurkers alike. Rick, meanwhile, hung back; crouching slightly to get a view inside the building while staying closer to the truck.

"Daryl," Georgie called out. When he turned to look back at her, she gestured to the overturned machine off to the side of the building. "I think that might be what you're looking for."

Like a man on a mission, Daryl stalked right up to the machine and gently banged on the metal back to get Rick's attention. "Yo, give me a hand with this. Let's flip it over."

Georgie stepped out of the way as Rick walked over, joining Daryl on the same side. On a silent count of three, both men began to push, but the machine was too heavy. It had lifted slightly, but not enough to flip it at least onto its side. As they dropped it back down, they stood back and Rick gave a shake of his head and flexed the muscles in his shoulders.

"I don't think we got it," he commented as Daryl walked around to the other side.

Looking past Georgie to the truck, Daryl brought his gaze up to Rick. "I got an idea."

As he headed over to the truck, he whistled for Rick to toss him the keys. When Rick sent them flying through the air, Daryl reached out to catch them but they somehow bounced off his fingertips and dropped them. After hunching down and picking them up, he sprinted over to the driver's side, threw open the door and climbed in. Georgie stepped closer toward the vending machine as she and Rick watched the archer start the truck up, drive it forward to the road and then back up toward the vending machine. He left a good distance between both and then hopped back out, while leaving the truck idle in park.

"There's some chains over there," Daryl remarked. "We wrap them around the machine and the other end on the trailer hitch, yank it up that way."

Rick nodded. "Alright."

Georgie was already one step ahead, hurrying over to the chains in question and handing them off to Daryl. With a grunt of thanks, he took them and then he and Rick went to town with rigging up a system to flip the damned machine over. Georgie just stood there, watching, finding amusement in the two men working up a sweat while she also kept an eye out in both directions of the road in case of walkers.

Once the chains were in place, Rick climbed into the truck and used the side view mirror to watch Daryl while putting his foot on the gas. Daryl kept his hand up for Rick to keep going until the machine lurched upward enough and landed on its side. Daryl whistled for Rick to stop as Georgie came around to peer through the dirty glass front with her hands on her hips. Already working at pulling the chains aside, Daryl was preparing for opening the machine up while Rick turned off the truck and hopped out to join his best friend and his girlfriend.

Georgie smirked. "All this for some soda and candy."

"Is it really even worth the trouble?" Rick wondered.

"It wasn't any trouble," Daryl insisted.

Without any warning at all, a solid mass slammed into Rick, momentarily shoving down over the machine. In a flurry of motion all three grabbed for their guns as a man pushed past them and immediately threw his hands up as he continued to step back from them. His shoulder length brown hair hung straight underneath a beanie, there was a discolored white bandana covering the lower half of his face and neck so that only his eyes were visible. In fact, every inch of his body seemed to be covered except for his eyes. The leather trench coat he was wearing seemed a bit much in such sticky, Virginian heat.

"Hi," the man greeted awkwardly.

"Back up! Now!" Daryl growled, aiming his gun at the man's forehead.

"Keep 'em up," Rick bellowed when the man's hands began to lower.

Georgie sauntered around to the other side of the vending machine to get a different angle on the man while never taking her eyes off him.

"Whoa, easy, guys," he muttered. "I was just running from the dead."

Georgie's eyes shifted to the space between the buildings from which the man had come from as Rick back up toward it.

"How many?" Daryl demanded.

"Ten, maybe more," the man answered. "I'm not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running."

"Where?" Georgie questioned.

"About half a mile back," came the reply, but the man's tone didn't feel particularly convincing to her. "They're headed this way. You probably have about eleven minutes."

"Oddly specific number," she remarked.

"Okay," Rick spoke after a few silent moments, before lowering his gun and holstering it. "Thanks for letting us know."

Georgie cast her eyes over to him. If he felt confident that he didn't need to aim his weapon at the man anymore, then that was good enough for Georgie, as she too shoved her gun back into its holster after setting the safety.

"Yeah," the man shrugged. "There's more of them than us, right? Gotta stick together." When he seemed to get no reaction from either of the three, he tilted his posture and eyed Daryl. "Right?" When the archer responded by lowering his gun last, the man lowered his hands. "You have a camp?"

"Nah," Daryl was quick to answer.

"Do _you_?" Rick questioned.

"No. Sorry for running into you. I'm gonna go now." As the man turned around and began to walk away, he called out, "If this is the next world, I hope it's good to you guys."

"I'm Rick. This is Daryl, Georgie," Rick introduced. "What's _your_ name?"

The man stopped, turned and pulled his bandana down off his face. "Paul Rovia," he replied, throwing his arms out at his sides. "But my friends used to call me Jesus. Your pick."

"You said you didn't have a camp. You on your own?"

"Yeah. But, still, best not to try anything."

"Best not to make threats you can't keep, either," Daryl parried.

"Exactly," Jesus smirked as he turned to leave again.

"How many walkers—" Rick began to ask, but Daryl cut him off.

"No, not this guy."

Rick ignored Daryl's comment and asked anyway, "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Sorry, gotta run!" Jesus called back to them. "You should, too. Think you've got about seven minutes."

"What the hell was that?" Daryl wondered.

"He was _clean_. His beard, it was trimmed. There's more going on there."

"He didn't have a gun, either."

Georgie shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "If there are walkers coming, why would he head back in the same direction he just came from?" she questioned, gesturing toward the where Jesus had just gone. "If he was running away, he should be heading for the road, in either direction."

Rick tilted his head slightly from side to side, weighing some options. "We could track him, watch him for a while; get to know more. See if he's really alone." Then he added, "Maybe bring him back."

"Nah," Daryl decline. "Guy calls himself Jesus."

Georgie snickered at that. "Well, he _did_ kinda look the part with the hair and beard."

As gunshot sounds echoed from behind the building in a succession of popping noises, the three of them grabbed for their guns again and headed toward the noise without missing a beat. Running alongside the front of the other building next door, they rounded the corner and made their way toward the back only to discover a barrel shooting sparks out and making those popping noises they'd been hearing.

"Firecrackers," Georgie stated the obvious.

"_Shit_," Rick bit out.

"Dammit, I knew there was something off about that guy."

A look of realization dawned on Daryl's face as he gestured to Rick's belt. "He swiped your keys, didn't he?"

"Oh, _shit_!"

As the three of them took back off toward the front, they were just in time to see the driver's side door to the truck shut and a hand stick out to wave.

"Sorry!" Jesus called out to them as he drove away with the truck; dragging the vending machine along with it.

Running out onto the street after it but stopping in their track as soon as they stood in the center of the road, all three of their shoulders seemed to slump in defeat.

"Shit," Rick muttered.

With a shake of her head, Georgie began to walk forward. "Well, let's not just stand here having a pity party," she commented. Throwing a look over her shoulder at both men, she raised a hand. "All those in favor of crucifying Jesus?"

* * *

After running about a mile or two up the road, Rick, Georgie and Daryl came upon some fresh tire tracks, as well as the vending machine which had been abandoned in the middle of the road. It was the perfect moment to stop and catch their breaths, and while it was definitely quite hot out, only Rick seemed to be the one who was drenched the most from sweat. His hair looked as if he'd just stepped out of the shower and, for whatever reason, Georgie was able to take the time to both admire how incredibly sexy he still looked in her eyes while also finding amusement in his appearance as well.

"What?" he asked, leaning forward slightly with his hands on his knees.

"Nothing," she assured while Daryl grabbed his crowbar out of his backpack and broke the glass on the vending machine. She and Rick both turned and watched as the archer reached inside, grabbing the snacks out and shoving them into his backpack. "Anything good in there at least?" she wondered.

"Orange fucking Crush," Daryl replied, somewhat triumphantly.

"The good doctor's special request," Georgie retorted.

"Hey, whatever she wants," Rick shrugged.

Daryl lifted one of the cans, which happened to be punctured along the side, and let the warm, carbonated liquid drain into his mouth before passing it to Georgie next. She took it graciously, happy for anything to soothe her dry mouth and throat before passing to Rick last.

"She _did_ save Carl's life, after all," Georgie reminded.

"We didn't know her, and she turned out to be alright," Rick nodded as he watched Daryl throw his backpack on again. "If there's still people out here, and they're still people, we should bring 'em in."

The archer took the soda can back from Rick when it was offered to him and he took another swig, and then gestured up the road. "What, like this guy?"

"No, not this guy," Georgie shook her head. Finishing the contents off, she tossed the can over her shoulder once it was empty while something inside he vending machine caught her eye. Reaching an arm out, she slapped Rick's arm gently and then gestured at what she held her attention as was stuck between the coils.

Sauntering over toward the vending machine and peering inside, Rick leaned down and grabbed the item in question; quickly shoving into his back pocket.

"We still got a trail," Daryl informed.

"Let's go," Rick muttered, and like that, without hesitation, all three of them took off in a sprint.

* * *

Following the tire marks on the road, the threesome continued to run for possibly another mile; only taking brief stops here and there to catch their breath before taking off again. Just like the day the herd broke apart and they had to make a run for it from the RV back to Alexandria, Georgia and Rick's legs and chests were screaming from the burning in their joints and in their lungs. Daryl didn't seem to be faring all that well either. Each of them looked like they'd just stepped out of a sauna, although Rick still looked as if he'd jumped out of a hot shower with how his curls just clung damply to his face from sweat.

As they turned onto another road, it gradually became somewhat of an incline. Daryl signaled for them to slow and when they did they crouched down and peered over the curve in the road toward the decline where Jesus was trying to fix the front, driver's side wheel of the truck which seemed to have fallen off.

Withdrawing their guns and slinking off into the woods on the left side of the road, Daryl led Rick and Georgie amidst the trees. When they got nearer to the road, they split off. Daryl went left and Rick tapped Georgie's wrist to gesture for her to follow him right.

While Jesus was distracted with the wheel at the front, the couple slipped out of the woods and moved to the other side of the truck; thankful the bottoms of their boots seemed to make no sounds. Then again, Jesus clanking the tire iron around on the pavement masked any other noises at the moment. As Jesus finished up and came around to the back of the truck, Daryl came out of the woods and crouched down toward the front of the truck to lie in wait. As soon as the back door to the truck was pulled down, Rick took that moment as his cue.

Darting out, he jumped on Jesus' back and pinned his arms down. "Hold still and maybe we won't hurt you."

"Sure thing," Jesus muttered, right before elbowing Rick in the abdomen, leaned back up and hit him in the face, and then spun out of Rick's grasp to kick him in the stomach, knocking him down as Georgie stepped out with her gun raised.

"Make one more move, I dare you," she warned.

Just as he threw his hands up in surrender, though, Daryl chose that moment to come at Jesus; taking a swing to clothesline the other man. However, Jesus seemed more agile as he easily grabbed Daryl and slammed him against the side of the truck. Rick was also back on his feet, lickety-split, and he threw himself at Jesus like a bull in a china shop; barreling into him with all his strength and knocking _him_ down to the ground this time.

Georgie rolled her eyes. She'd had Jesus, but men being men had to take it to a whole other level by literally and figuratively throwing their weight around.

All three of them pointed their guns down at Jesus now as he lay back, staring up at them in defeat.

"This is done," Rick stated, through gritted teeth, as a considerably decayed walker came stumbling out of the woods.

Emitting a sigh as he sat up a bit, Jesus rolled his eyes slightly. "Do you even have any ammo?"

In response, Rick, Georgie and Daryl lifted their respective guns and each fired a single shot into the walker's head. Georgie, having always been better with her hunting knife than long range with a gun, missed slightly; her bullet blasting off half of the walker's jaw. The point was made to Jesus, though, that they had ammo and they weren't to be trifled with any further.

"Okay," Jesus muttered. "You gonna shoot me over a truck?"

"There's a lot of food on that truck," Rick replied. "The keys. _Now._"

"You know I'm not a bad guy."

"Yeah? What do you know about _us_? Give me the keys."

Georgie glanced briefly over at Rick and then back at Jesus, keeping her aim on the latter. "It'll be in your best interest to listen to the man," she advised.

Jesus looked from Rick, to Georgie, and back, but made no move to get the keys or even speak.

Rick cocked his gun and re-aimed it. "This is the last time I'm asking."

With a frown, Jesus slowly reached into his pocket with one hand while holding the other up to signify he wasn't gonna try anything. With a flick of his wrist he tossed the keys into the air and Rick caught them easily enough. Meanwhile, Daryl began to up toward the truck, and threw the back door open to pull out some rope he'd remembered seeing inside earlier when they first found the truck in that barn. Rick shoved the keys into his pocket and holstered his Colt while Georgie maintained her aim on Jesus. When Daryl handed off the rope, Rick took it and used the knife he had on him to cut the rope into three, equal pieces. The first piece he bound Jesus' hands together with, the second he bound him at the knees, and lastly Rick began to bind Jesus' legs together at the ankle.

"Dammit," Daryl muttered, pulling one of the Orange Crush soda cans out of his backpack. In the scuffle with Jesus, the can burst, spilling the contents inside the bag and were now seeping out the bottom.

"You gonna leave me here like this?" Jesus questioned Rick. "You're really gonna do that?"

"Eh, the knots aren't that tight. You should be able to get free after we're long gone."

"If you're lucky," Georgie added to the conversation. No longer feeling like he needed to be guarded so much anymore, she threw on the safety to her gun and returned it to its holster.

Jesus stared up at her; maybe thinking that because she was a woman, she might be an easier target for going soft if he pouted and flashed those big, doe eyes at her. Unfortunately for him there were only two blue-eyed boys who turned her into a softie anymore and their last name was Grimes.

"Maybe we should talk now," Jesus suggested in a last ditch effort.

Rick cast a glance over his shoulder at Georgie as he began to make his way toward the front of the truck. "What do _you_ think, Georgie?" he questioned; a slightly deviant sparkle in his eyes as he gestured to Jesus. "Should we have a friendly chat with our Lord and Savior over here?"

Georgie placed her hands on her hips and gave Jesus a once over and then shrugged. "Nah."

Rick through his hands in the air. "Sorry. The lady has spoken."

As Georgie joined Rick at his side, Daryl removed a third can of Orange Crush from his backpack, shook it up and then tossed it down at Jesus' legs.

"Here," he muttered. "In case ya get thirsty."

Throwing open the driver's side door, Rick helped Georgie up to take a seat in the middle again before climbing in after her. And, oh, how wonderful it felt to sit down after all that running. Once Daryl was inside as well, Rick let out a sigh. Raising his hand up, he began spinning the keys around his index finger and a roguish smirk took up residence on his face as he looked between Georgie and Daryl. Both smirked right back at him.

As the three of them just sat there for a moment or two longer, Daryl began digging around his backpack and removed another can of orange soda and set it down into the drink holder in front of Georgie while Rick shoved the key into the ignition and started the truck up. As the engine roared to life, and after he shifted the gears into drive, Rick brought his hand back and patted Georgie's upper thigh, which garnered a warm smile from her.

Shoving his hand out his window and flipping the bird, Daryl looked over his shoulder, despite not being able to see anything, and shouted, "So long, ya prick!"

With that, the truck began to cruise down the road and Daryl propped his legs up on the dashboard. As both men looked at each other in subtle amusement, Georgie's hair fell over her shoulders.

"Fuck," she grumbled, reaching her hand around and feeling for something.

Rick threw her a brief look. "What?"

"My damn hair tie snapped. Dammit." When she successfully found where the broken, elastic tie was, Georgie frowned. Leaning forward and closer to Daryl, she tossed it out the window. "Well, there goes another one." With a heavy sigh, she leaned back. "The very least of our problems, I know, but you have no idea how hard it is going through hair ties when you have such thick hair. I'm seriously hoping there might be some more in the back of this truck."

"Should I break out the violin," Daryl teased.

"Shut up," she muttered with a small smile. "Ya'll have shorter hair. Mine's long and it just gets in the way and there's so much of it and it makes me hot—"

"You're already hot," Rick quipped, dragging his hand back up to her thigh and giving it a squeeze.

As Georgie rolled her eyes, Daryl grunted and shifted around uncomfortably. "Nah, none of that shit while I'm right here."

A chuckle escaped Rick's lips and he looked between his best friend and girlfriend before turning his attention back to the road with a smile.

* * *

Rick lucked out in that the truck had a CD player inside it and there were CDs of his liking. Shoving one into the player, labeled 'Travel Mix', songs began to play that all three of them actually seemed okay with. Daryl began removing a few of the snacks from his backpack, including a KitKat bar he broke apart; handing pieces over to both Rick and Georgie.

"Aw yeah," Georgie cooed. "Chocolate."

"Still worked out," Rick remarked, finishing off his piece in one bite. "Today still is the day."

Daryl leaned forward, turning up the volume to the radio and broke off another piece for Rick, who took it just before Georgie leaned forward and pointed straight ahead of them.

"Hey, look at that," she observed.

Daryl leaned forward as well, taking hold of the grab bar with his right hand and licking the fingers of his left hand clean. "Yeah, a barn."

As Rick continued forward, he drove the truck into the field near the bar in question, but as the truck lurched around from grooves in the earth, a slight thudding noise seemed to catch his attention. "You hear that?" he asked, wondering if maybe he wasn't hearing things.

Daryl turned the volume all the way down so all three of them could listen; and, sure as shit, there was a metallic thudding noise coming from up above.

"That sonofabitch is on the roof!" the archer exclaimed.

"Are you shitting me right now?" Georgie turned his face up toward the ceiling of the truck's cab and frowned.

Rick practically scowled. "Hold on," he warned.

As Georgie and Daryl braced themselves, placing their hands on the dashboard, Rick slammed on the brakes and the truck skidded to an abrupt stop. Without warning, a body was thrown from the roof and tumbled down onto the grass in front of the truck. It was a blur, but the body was no doubt that of Jesus. Even the "ugh" noise he made as he landed sounded like him.

The three of them took pause, lifting in their seats to see if they could see him, just as Jesus popped up, facing the front of the truck. As he looked at them inside staring at him, there was a strange lull that fell over all of them. But then Jesus was off. He turned and took off running away from the truck; a man on a mission to just get away.

Rick, however, wasn't having it.

Taking his foot off the brake and moving it to the gas pedal, he began to drive off after Jesus to chase him.

"Rick," Georgie lamely chastised, just as Daryl threw his door open while the truck was still moving.

"Mother—" Daryl grunted, cutting his own self off as he moved to jump from the vehicle.

"_Daryl_," Rick barked as Georgie made an attempt to grab at the archer's vest to pull him back in.

Neither was able to keep their friend inside the truck, though. Daryl hit the ground running and slammed the door shut, allowing Georgie to take the passenger seat.

"Daryl!" Rick shouted; maneuvering the truck around the field as Daryl began to chase Jesus on foot.

"Why are we even bothering with this jackass?" Georgie inquired; flashing a glance at Rick while gripping tight onto the grab bar with her right hand and bracing her left hand on the dashboard to keep from being thrown around inside the cab of the truck. "Why don't we just leave him and head home?"

"Because we're men, and men are idiots?" Rick replied.

"Well, I can't argue that."

As Rick accelerated a little more and tried cutting Jesus off, Jesus simply doubled back and darted behind the truck as Daryl continued to head after him. Rick braked and then started backing all the way up near the edge of the field where there was a small lake behind some trees.

"Stay here," Rick said to Georgie.

"Like hell."

"Just do it."

Georgie gave him a look as if he was on acid but all she could do was expel a huff and sit back while Rick jumped out of the truck. She would oblige him this once, but he would owe her for making her sit this one out while Rick and Daryl got to play 'Dukes of Hazzard' with the man named Jesus.

There was a pickup truck nearby with several walkers tied to it with rope, but with the movement in the field by the three men, the walkers got riled up. As they pulled forward, trying to reach for the living, the ropes holding them in place all began to snap, probably from dry rot. Who knows how long those walkers had been there to begin with.

Even with the windows of the truck rolled up, Georgie could hear Daryl shouting about 'having him' as he continued chasing after Jesus, which allowed Rick to head for the walkers and take them out. Georgie grumbled, though, as that was something she could be helping him with.

While her attention was focused mainly on Rick, and the inherent concern of him possibly getting bit, she didn't notice that Jesus had made his way over to the truck and threw open the driver's side door. Either he forgot she was inside, or just didn't care. Either way, they were both surprised to see each other.

"Hello," he greeted, nearly out of breath, as she jumped backward toward the passenger's side door and fumbled for her gun while he fumbled around to look for the keys.

As Georgie pulled the gun from her holster, Daryl ran up and began grabbing on Jesus.

"C'mere!" Daryl growled out.

"Get off me, asshole!" Georgie shouted when Jesus landed back upon her.

As the scuffle inside the cab continued, Jesus was able to turn slightly and grab Georgie's gun out of her hand as Daryl was trying to pull him out of the truck. As he sat up just a bit, while Georgie began to kick him in the back, he still managed to raise the gun and aim it at Daryl's head.

The gesture caused both Georgie and Daryl to stop what they were doing; the fear that Jesus might shoot Daryl setting their senses alight. However, surprisingly, that wasn't the case.

"Duck," Jesus muttered.

Without hesitation, Daryl dropped down and Jesus fired a shot into the head of a walker that had been approaching from behind. Slipping an arm around Jesus' neck, Georgie held him in place as Daryl popped back up, turned around to look down at the dead walker and then back at Jesus.

"Thanks," the archer commented; grabbing for Georgie's gun, and punching Jesus in the face. He then bellowed, "That _ain't_ your gun!"

As the overly-dressed, bearded man fell back upon Georgie's chest, Daryl climbed up into the cab to yank him forward while handing Georgie's gun back over to her. In the attempt at removing Jesus from the truck, the gear got hit; taking the truck from park and sending it rolling in reverse.

Daryl still had a grip on Jesus and yanked them backward out of the moving vehicle. Both men tumbled out; slamming the driver's side door in the process, and leaving Georgie still behind as the truck rolled down the embankment and into the water. She made the move to jump out, too, but in the scuffle, her hair had somehow got caught on the seatbelt. Shifting around, she reached for her hunting knife as the truck slipped quickly into the water.

"Georgie!" she heard Rick shouting for her.

Turning her attention out the front of the windshield, she couldn't see him because of the angle the truck was at now. She throwing the truck back into park, but it was useless now. Her focus had to be cutting herself free and getting out of the truck altogether.

"No! Georgie!" Rick continued as he ran toward the embankment.

Once she'd sliced off the offending locks of hair and turned around to push at the passenger side door but pressure from the water was forcing it to stay closed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," mumbled over and over.

Then, she had an idea.

Sitting back normally in the passenger seat, she returned her gun to its sheath and instead lifted her gun. Aiming at the windshield, she fired two shots which caused the glass to nearly shatter. A web pattern formed and she sank down into the seat and lifted her legs to kick out the glass. As the truck sank more quickly into the lake, water began to rush up at the windshield. The holes and cracks caused from the bullets, along with her kicking at the glass, made it easier for the force of the water press against the windshield and cause it to shatter inward. Water began rushing in, catching Georgie off guard as she turned her face to avoid being cut.

As the truck slipped completely under the water, Georgie held her breath and opened her eyes. They immediately burned and it was difficult to see, but she could make out the light from the sun and pushed off from the passenger seat to propel herself forward out the collapsed windshield.

For Rick, fear had just washed all over him and he began to panic. The truck and its supplies meant nothing anymore. He just had to save Georgie before she drowned inside the vehicle.

When he heard the gunshots and the sound of glass breaking, Rick knew Georgie wasn't going down without a fight. He didn't hesitate for one minute as he ran down the embankment, sliding somewhat and then dove into the water.

As the truck slipped under the water, Rick's eyes went wide and swam toward it, not bothering to think of how the suction from the truck sinking under the water's surface might pull him down with it. Just as he got nearer to it, he saw bubbles rising to the surface and, a few moments later, Georgie's head popped up; her ginger locks matted down around her face as she let out a deep gasp for air.

"Georgie!" Rick called to her.

As she focused her gaze on him, she swam over toward his direction. "Rick," she coughed, and somehow managed to smile despite it all.

Meeting her halfway, Rick threw his arms around her, while kicking with his legs to keep them afloat. Crashing his lips down upon hers in a frenzied kiss was how he greeted her to show how relieved he was that she was okay.

"Shit," he mumbled. "You scared me there for a minute or two."

"I was scared for a minute or two as well," she admitted.

"Y'alright?" Daryl called out, a hand over his eyes and not seeming too concerned; at least not anymore now that he could see that Georgie had made it out of the truck alive.

"She's okay!" Rick shouted back.

The couple clung to each other as they swam back to the water's edge, with Rick pushing her forward up the embankment once they reached it, and with Daryl offering his hands to help them both up.

"Where's Jesus?"

"Unconscious. Truck door knocked him in the head when it began to roll," Daryl replied. As he helped bring Georgie up to her feet, he eyed her with concern. "Y'alright?" He'd heard it from Rick's lips, but the archer wanted to hear it from hers.

Georgie nodded, feeling so weighed down because of her soaked clothes; although, it actually felt refreshing, given how hot it was. "Yeah, I'm alright."

Rick brought a hand to the back of her head once he was standing, and pulled her in toward him to embrace her and kiss her again. "Next time, don't stay in the truck when I tell you to."

Georgie laughed. "Next time you better believe I won't listen to you."

Pushing her hair off her face once they parted from each other, she looked down over at Jesus body. If she didn't know any better, she would've just assumed he was dead.

As the three of them turned back toward the lake and the truck full of supplies they no longer had, a feeling of defeat suddenly struck them.

"Law of averages: that's some bullshit, man," Daryl muttered, looking at Rick. "Let's go check them cars, get the hell out of here."

Georgie looked over her shoulder toward the direction of the pickup truck that had been maintaining all those walkers. Just beyond it were a few abandoned cars as well.

"What about dickhead here?" Georgie questioned, nodding toward Jesus as she folded her arms under her chest.

Daryl grunted. "What about him?"

"He shot that walker," she replied. "Saved your life."

"Maybe," he shrugged.

"Did he ever pull a weapon on you?" Rick asked.

Daryl looked between the couple, and then over to Jesus. Fidgeting his fingers, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he muttered, as if it was a chore, and stalked over to the unconscious man. "Let's put him up a tree."

* * *

Later that evening, as the sun began its slow descent down from the sky toward the horizon, Rick was once again behind the wheel, but it was not in the Chrysler and it was not in the truck that now sat at the bottom of a lake. Having found a Jeep Grand Cherokee with enough fuel in it to get them back to the Alexandria.

Beside him, and still just as soaked to the bone as him, Georgie sat, playing with the small section of her hair she had been forced to cut to free herself from the seatbelt. In the backseat, sitting directly behind Georgie, was Daryl. Then there was a still unconscious Jesus, leaning against Daryl, who they had made the decision to bring back with them.

Peering into the backseat by way of the rearview mirror, Rick smirked and pitched the car quickly to the right, causing Jesus to fall more into Daryl, who reacted by shoving Jesus away. Georgie turned to looked over at Rick; his smirk making her smirk as well as she could more or less figure out he was just being a little shit to mess with Daryl.

"He took a pretty hard hit," Rick spoke, holding Daryl's gaze in the mirror. "Denise needs to look him over."

"Yeah."

"You wouldn't have gone through with it. You wouldn't have left him."

"I woulda," Daryl insisted. "Right up a tree. I woulda."

"Nah," Rick countered. "I know. Almost as soon as we got to Alexandria, you got it. You saw—you and Michonne, Glenn, you all tried to tell me. So shut up." Rick pitched the car to the right again, sending Jesus once more into Daryl. As the archer shoved Jesus away toward the left side of the backseat, Rick eyed Daryl with a more serious gaze. "'Cause I'm finally listening."

Reaching her hand out to him, Georgie placed it down upon his thigh, the same as he did to her earlier in the Sorghum truck. "Hey," she whispered, bringing his attention away from the backseat and over to her instead. "It's still a good day."

"Yeah?" he questioned, focusing mostly on the road . "How? We lost all those supplies."

Georgie shrugged. "I didn't drown, we didn't get eaten by any walkers. We found a car to bring us home," she rattled off. "We can always find more supplies." She lifted her hand from his thigh and brought it to his right hand instead, entwining her fingers with his. "Things will get better," she added, turning her gaze toward the road as well. "Law of averages isn't _completely_ bullshit."

* * *

By the time they made their way home to Alexandria, darkness had fallen. Inside the car, all were silent as Rick drove slowly up to the front gate, maneuvering around the obstacle course that was the other cars and sharpened poles. One walker impaled upon such a pole turned when it saw the lights coming from the car and heard it rolling up on the pavement. Its right arm reached out and its mouth chomped at air, but the conscious trio in the car paid it no mind.

"You know, I was thinking back before we went out to the quarry; the morning after Reg and Jake," Daryl spoke quietly from the backseat while Jesus still remained asleep beside him. "You said we shouldn't be looking for people no more. You were right."

Rick looked up into the rearview mirror and locked eyes with Daryl. Putting his foot onto the brake, he waited for someone to open the gate for them while he shook his head. "Nope," he muttered. "I was wrong. You were right."

When still no one opened the gate, Georgie sat up and gestured toward the steering column. "Flash 'em."

Grabbing the proper headlight switch, Rick flicked it so the headlights flashed on and off a couple of times. Mere moments later, the gate creaked as it rolled open, allowing Rick to drive them on through. Once the gate was closed behind them, they continued straight and then turned right, heading for the infirmary which Rick parked in front of. Once the engine was killed, Rick looked at Georgie and reached a hand out to her forehead, pushing her hair back.

"You wanna head home? Daryl and I got him," Rick gestured toward the backseat with a nod of his head.

"Yeah, okay," Georgie nodded.

Dragging his hand down from her forehead, he let his thumb graze the side of her face. Daryl seemed to be feeling a little impatient, or he wanted to give the couple a few seconds alone, despite Jesus in the backseat. As the archer hopped out and made his leisurely trek around the back of the car to the other side, Rick leaned forward. He only gave Georgie a quick peck to the corner of her lips, but it was plenty for the moment.

"Don't take all night."

"We won't," he assured her. "We'll have Denise look him over and then toss him in that basement for the night. We'll talk with him in the morning about everything; where he's from and where he was gonna take all those supplies. He had to be from somewhere."

With a nod, Georgie accepted this and climbed out of the car. When Rick followed suit, he watched as she began to walk off down the road, before calling out to her in barely above a whisper. When she turned and began to double back, he pulled something out of his back pocket and placed it into the palm of her hand.

"Give that to Michonne if she's up, will ya?"

When Georgie glanced at what she held, she smirked. "Okay."

As she continued to walk away again, Daryl opened up the driver's side, back passenger door and Jesus nearly fell out in the process, but the archer was quick to catch him. Hooking his hands under the sleeping man's arm, Daryl began to pull him out and Rick moved in to grab him at the legs. Once he kicked his door and the back door shut with heel of his boot, Rick resituated his grip and held onto Jesus more around his ankles. Georgie was a little more than halfway home when the two friends carried their captive up to the infirmary's porch.

* * *

Once she was through the front door, Georgie let out a sigh of relief just at the mere awareness of being home. It was such a lovely feeling and it made any crazy thing that had happened that day feel like a distant memory. She plodded into the kitchen, over to the fridge and found a bottle of water, which she uncapped and took a few swigs from. Taking it with her, she began to head up toward the stairwell as she passed Michonne who was coming out of her downstairs bedroom.

"Hey—whoa. You look terrible," Michonne remarked, eyeing Georgie up and down. "Did your day not go well?"

"It did and it didn't," Georgie shrugged.

"Dare I ask?"

"We lost the supplies. Some asshole calling himself Jesus stole them, and then we stole them back. Long story short: the entire truck full of supplies is now at the bottom of a lake, which was almost my grave, as you can see," she remarked, gesturing to her still considerably damp clothing. The white shirt she'd been wearing all day was now a slight tan hue from the muddy lake water.

"You almost drowned?"

"I was still in the truck when it went into the lake, no thanks to Jesus."

Michonne made a face. "This really a real guy or are you taking the Lord's name in vain?" she asked with a smile on her face.

"Oh, no, it's a real guy. He got knocked out. He's been unconscious for a couple of hours. We brought him back," Georgie replied. "The guys took him to the infirmary for Denise to look him over, then they're locking him up for the night. We'll deal with him tomorrow morning."

"Shit, and I thought _I_ had a day?"

"How _was_ your day? How were the kids?"

"Kids were great. Carl went out with Enid. Then I followed Spencer into the woods, and we ran into his mother."

"No, shit. Deanna?"

"Yeah," Michonne nodded sadly. "She was a walker."

"Yeah, I kinda figured something like that must've happened when we couldn't find her body after…you know…all that." Georgie might've gotten past the night the walkers freely roamed Alexandria's streets and the death of her son, but it didn't mean she cared to think much on it anymore. She had made the decision to keep looking forward, not backward. "Did you—?"

"No, Spencer did. We buried her outside the walls, though. Marked where she is on a tree."

"Maybe you'll take me out there one of these days, show me the grave so I can pay my respects."

Michonne nodded. "Sure thing."

As Georgie moved to head up the stairwell, she stopped in her tracks and tapped Michonne on the arm. "Oh, wait," she muttered. "Here." Holding out a small package of mints, Georgie placed them into the palm of Michonne's hand and chuckled. "Since we couldn't get the toothpaste, I think this was Rick's idea of the next best thing."

Michonne snickered. "Spearmint lifesavers? At least he got the flavor right. I guess we can let him stay." Twisting the package around in her fingers, she frowned a bit. "It's kinda wet."

"Yeah…Rick jumped into the water after me. They must've still been in his pocket, so they got just as waterlogged as us," the ginger remarked. "Just leave 'em sitting out. They should be fine."

"Better than nothing, right?"

"Right."

"Here," Michonne mumbled, handing off the baby monitor she'd been holding in her other hand. "I was gonna keep an eye on Judith but, since you're back, _you_ can and I'll get some sleep. It's my turn to go on a run tomorrow anyway, so I should be rested just in case I have a crazier day than you."

Georgie rolled her eyes. "I doubt it."

As both women smiled at each other, they silently parted ways; Michonne ducking back into her bedroom while Georgie headed upstairs to take a nice, hot shower to sooth her aching muscles.

* * *

Before the hour was up, Rick came sauntering into the house as if he was carrying weights on his shoulders. He was so sore from the day; all that literal running around, the heat, the stress over losing the supplies _twice_ and almost losing Georgie. He was physically and mentally exhausted and he just wanted to lie down.

The downstairs was quiet, lights were off.

As he plodded past Michonne's bedroom door, it creaked open a hair and she peered out with a smirk while waving the mints out at him. "Thank you," she commented.

Rick stopped and looked back at her with a tired smile. "You're welcome. Sorry it's not toothpaste."

"I'll survive," she shrugged. "Georgie already gave me the cliff notes version of your day."

"How was yours?"

"Nowhere near as crazy, apparently."

"Yeah," Rick nodded. Reaching his hand in her door, he patted it briefly down upon her wrist and then gave her a nod of his head. "I'll see ya in the morning."

"'Night."

Once Michonne had closed her bedroom door, Rick turned and made his way upstairs. Slowly but surely he reached his bedroom door, which was closed. Turning the knob and pushing the door open, Rick slipped inside and found Georgie lying in bed with only a bedsheet covering her naked body.

Her hair was damp again, so he could tell she must've taken a shower. But that wasn't was held his attention. Obviously, it was because she was naked.

He was a man, after all.

He could be on his deathbed with some important, parting words of wisdom to tell his children and he would still probably get distracted if the image of Georgie without any clothes on popped into his mind.

"Feeling better?" he asked, shutting the door and hunching forward to remove his boots.

"Almost."

"Almost?"

"Yeah." Rolling onto her side, she propped her elbow up and rested the side of her face into her palm. "I could be better."

Undoing his utility belt, Rick walked around to his side of the bed and draped the belt along his nightstand before getting to his actual belt. "Anything I can do? You need some Tylenol or something?"

Rolling back onto the mattress again, Georgie turned her head and watched him lift the bottom of his shirt from out of his pants and then sat up all the way. Climbing up onto her knees, she managed to keep her front covered with the bed sheet with her left hand while her right reached out so she could stick a finger through one of his belt loops and pull him closer. When he knees hit the edge of the bed, Rick smirked down at her; leaning his face down to bring his lips to hers.

Rick placed his hands right into her thick, damp locks as he deepened their kiss. When they slowly parted from each other, the look of love in their eyes was starting to give way to a bit more lust. Grinning down at her, Rick began to fumble with the buttons of his denim shirt and pulled it off as quickly as he could manage.

Once shirtless, he undid his pants and shoved them down off his narrow hips moments before climbing up onto the bed on his knees. Taking Georgie into his arms, he encircled them around her waist while she pulled him down upon the bed with a quiet fit of laughter.

"Law of averages," Rick mumbled against her lips as he laid down between her legs. Grinding against her, getting the two of them equally worked up, he added, "For every little thing that went wrong today, I'm gonna see goes right, right here with you."

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she forced his groin against hers and smiled impishly back up at him. "I'm literally holding you to it," she remarked, giggling at her own lame joke.

Situating himself at her entrance, Rick just tutted and shook his head. Then, without warning, he licked at her lips and thrust inside of her.

* * *

Hours later, just after daybreak, Rick and Georgie were fast asleep in bed; both on their sides, facing each other, with their legs entwined and still as naked as the day they came crying. For the most part, they were light sleepers, but after the overexertion from the day before, they're bodies barely stirred for anything.

When the bedroom door creaked open, they didn't stir.

When footsteps crossed the floor and stopped at the foot of the bed, they didn't stir.

"Rick," came a voice. "Georgie."

Neither stirred, still; although, the insistent sound was starting to break into their mind and alert them it was time to leave dreamland.

As conscious slowly began to seep in, the voice spoke up again, this time more persistently.

"Hey, wake up."

As an alarm went off in their heads, Rick and Georgie sat up and practically jumped out of their skin as they clambered out of bed. Rick grabbed for his Colt on the bedside table as Georgie fumbled for the bed sheet, but then gave up trying; instead reaching for her gun, still in the holster of her own utility belt which lay on the floor. Jumping up to their feet and aiming, Rick and Georgie stood there, bare ass naked in front of none other than Jesus, who held his hands up so they wouldn't shoot him.

"What the _hell_?" Georgie barked while Rick sneered like a rabid dog ready to pounce.

"Sorry," Jesus apologized toward her, without looking at her in her state of literal undress; instead focusing solely on Rick's face. Though, there was no denying he was somewhat amused by the situation. "We should talk."


	34. Hilltop

**Author's Note: So, as of the posting of this chapter, the season 6 finale is less than a week away and I am already emotionally compromised. This has nothing to actually do with the chapter you're about to read. I just need to put that out there. **

**_xoxo - Holly_**

* * *

_"__Do not let spacious plans for a new world divert your energies from saving what is left of the old." _— Winston Churchill

* * *

"We should talk."

Rick was glaring daggers at Jesus, his gun aimed at the man's face, and without caring that he was standing there naked as a jaybird. Sneering, he could see Jesus posed no actual threat. If he'd wanted to harm either him or Georgie he would've done it by now and probably while they'd still been asleep.

"And it has to be _now_?" Rick demanded, lowering his Colt. "You couldn't wait until we came to get you?"

Seeing Rick taking a less defensive stance, Georgie did the same. And, like Eve in the Garden after eating the apple, she became all too aware of her nakedness. Immediately crouching down, she grabbed for the bed sheet that had half-fallen off the bed on her side and pulled it up to wrap around her body. Rick, meanwhile, either didn't care about being clothing-deficient or he was so wrapped up in Jesus' unwarranted "visit" that he hadn't even realized he was standing there with his ass and other things _literally_ hanging out.

"Sorry," Jesus apologized, dropping his hands to his sides. "I figured, hey, it's morning. Thought I'd come find you. Didn't realize you and the missus would be so…indisposed. Again, sorry."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "The least you could do is avert your fucking eyes from my wife," he spat, not realizing the slip of his tongue.

Georgie noticed, though.

This would be the first time he'd referred to her as such, at least in her presence. She didn't know if he had done it before when anyone else was around. She couldn't deny she liked the sound of it rolling off his tongue. The last time he'd made a Freudian slip was back that night before they'd reached Alexandria, when they'd first met Eric and Rick had basically admitted he loved her to Eric and Aaron.

"Do you maybe want to wait outside so we can get dressed?" Georgie questioned.

The entire time, Jesus had kept his focus — _mostly_ — on Rick's face. When Georgie spoke up, however, he let his gaze flit over to her. "What—?"

"Eyes on me," Rick growled.

Jesus seemed a bit amused by all this, but Rick? Not so much.

"Sorry, sorry," Jesus repeated, throwing his hands up defensively yet again. "Yes, sorry, I'll…I'll go wait in the hallway."

"That would be a good first start," Rick replied, as if he was talking down to a child.

His nakedness finally seemed to hit him then, and it was mostly attributed to the quick glimpse Jesus stole followed by a smirk. Shoving his right in front of his crotch, Rick gripped the handle of his gun tightly with his left hand and glared back at the overly dressed, younger man.

Once Jesus had slipped from the room, courteously shutting the bedroom door behind him, Rick and Georgie immediately looked at each other; considerably flustered by what just happened.

"That's a first," Georgie muttered, dropping down to find her clothes.

"What is?" Rick asked, doing the same.

"Getting woken up by a virtual stranger while I'm in the nude," she replied, dropping the bed sheet onto the bed and slipping quickly into her underwear.

"Would it surprise you if I said that wasn't the first time for me?"

Georgie snickered. "What was the first time?"

Rick didn't bother with underwear and went straight for his pants after he set his gun down on the bed. "Just before Lori and I got married, I used to share an apartment with my friend Shane."

"Let me guess, you had Lori in bed and Shane walked in on you?"

"If only."

Georgie raised an eyebrow at him as she pulled her bra on and reached behind her to clasp it closed. "Oh, shit. Who walked in on you?"

"I always liked sleeping naked, more so when I was younger," he commented, shimmying his pants up over his narrow hips as he walked around the bed. "I got up to go to the bathroom and Shane's mom and dad had come over. And they saw _everything_."

Georgie snickered. "How embarrassed were you?"

"I would've been fine until Mr. Walsh congratulated me."

A hearty chuckle escaping Georgie's lips, she shook her head in amusement and then pulled her shirt back on over her head as Rick opened their bedroom door and slipped out first with his own shirt in hand. Following after him, she nearly slammed into his back when he came to an abrupt stop near the top of the stairs. There, Carl was holding a gun to the back of Jesus' head, who was sitting on the topmost step and holding a painting from the wall.

"Carl," Rick greeted his son in surprise, just as he was zipping his pants up while Georgie came up beside him. "Um…"

He knew his son was aware of and okay with his relationship with Georgie, but this was the first time his son had seen him in such a state of undress with Georgie present.

At the sound of the front door clattering open, followed by several eager footsteps, the four at the top of the stairs spotted Daryl, Glenn, Maggie and Abraham coming up the stairs. They went no further than the stairwell's landing, aiming guns up at Jesus as well.

"We're fine," Georgie assured, looking over the top railing at their people who were hesitant to lower their weapons.

"You said we should talk," Rick remarked toward Jesus, lifting his denim shirt up and slipping an arm into a sleeve. "So let's talk."

* * *

It was just barely after sunrise and the group had all but dragged Jesus down the stairs to the dining area where Daryl promptly shoved Jesus down into a chair at the end of the table farthest from the kitchen. Maggie and Glenn had taken seats perpendicular to one another while Abraham stood there, intentionally flexing his arm muscles, like a bird puffing up its feathers to ward off rivals or any sort of potential predators. Michonne had woken to the sounds of several feet trampling up the steps and come out of her bedroom with her katana at the ready; quickly to be clued in by Georgie once she descended the stairs with Rick and Carl. As Michonne had watched Daryl dragging Jesus down the stairs and toward the dining area that was when Carol had made an appearance at the top of the stairs, asking what the commotion was. Rick had appeased her, saying they had a visitor, but it was okay; to just go back to bed or at least keep an ear out for Judith who was still asleep.

Whatever Carol's decision had been, it resulted in her staying upstairs. Before the others, who had not been privy to Jesus' arrival into Alexandria the night before, had gathered around the table, Rick pulled them aside in the kitchen and gave them the cliff notes version, since all they knew was what had brought them to the house. Supplied with this new knowledge of their "guest", that was when the group present began to either take a seat around the table or stand as they narrowed their respective eyes at Jesus.

Carl, not to be excluded like some little kid anymore, took a seat at the table across from Maggie and Michonne to his left. Rick sat directly across from Michonne; to the right of Maggie, and perpendicular to Jesus. Daryl was pacing slightly while Georgie stood just behind Rick; her lower back pressed against the hutch and her arms folded across her chest. She still felt a bit flustered from Jesus having received an eyeful of both her and Rick and, because of it, was understandably resentful the man.

"So how'd you get out?" Rick questioned, considerably curious.

"One guard can't cover two exits," Jesus replied, matter-of-fact, as Daryl stepped behind him to stand near the wall, "or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?"

"Right," Daryl grunted, tapping his trigger finger against the barrel of the gun still in his hand.

"I checked out your arsenal," Jesus continued. "I haven't seen anything like that in a long time. You're well-equipped. But your provisions are low. Very low for the amount of people you have. Fifty-four?"

"More than that," Maggie piped up, her arms folded the same as Georgie's.

Jesus locked eyes with the younger woman for a moment and then down at his hands. "Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef."

"Well she ain't here," Daryl lied.

Well, not technically.

Carol was home, just upstairs and not there with the others.

Truth be told, right around the time Georgie had felt herself come out of her funk regarding her son's death, it seemed Carol had become slightly withdrawn at times. She either busied herself with baking cookies with whatever supplies could be spared, looked after Judith or took a few shifts on watch; keeping her interaction with the rest of the group to a bare minimum. Georgie had been meaning to talk to her friend about that recently, but something else always distracted her. And now definitely wasn't the time for that anyway.

Jesus looked up at Daryl and turned to address him primarily at first. "Look, we got off to a bad start. But we're on the same side. The _living_ side," he commented, turning back to look upon everyone else around the table, but then focused on Daryl once again. "You, Georgie and Rick had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn't. I'm from a place that's a lot like this one. Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and the three of you looked like trouble. I was wrong. You're good people. And this is a good place. I think our communities may be in a position to help each other.

"Do you have food?" Glenn asked.

"We've started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum."

"Tell us why we should believe you," Rick spoke.

"I'll show you. If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer."

"Wait," Maggie muttered, leaning forward. "You're looking for _more_ settlements? You mean you're already trading with other groups?"

Jesus sat back and grinned. "Your world's about to get a whole lot bigger."

* * *

It was decided.

A group would leave Alexandria and go with Jesus back to his community to see if his story was legit and, if so, if both their communities could reach a trade agreement.

Each person that had been present around the table to hear what Jesus had to tell them was going to go and had gone to pack up some bags to bring with them of some food and other supplies they might need if the trip took too long and they didn't get back until the next day. The RV was the largest vehicle to transport everyone so it had been brought round and parked in front of the group's main home where Daryl was tinkering with the engine to check the oil and make sure there wouldn't be any issues with the vehicle that might pop up on the road. Carol had begun moving around for the day, having gotten Judith up and dressed and fed. Eventually the girl was passed off to her father's waiting arms as Carol made herself scarce; not even bothering to say goodbye, which unnerved Georgie a bit but chose to disregard for the time being.

As the redhead came out of the house with a backpack in her hand, she tossed it to Abraham who in turn tossed it into the opened door of the RV. With a nod and a smirk to her fellow ginger, Georgie sauntered up to Rick's side where he was already having a conversation with his son. Carl was standing at the back of the RV with a gas canister in his hand and looked up at Georgie when she approached.

"I'll take the canisters if you wanna go grab your bag," she commented; having already spoken about it to Rick in passing, about ten minutes earlier up in their room, while they'd been packing the bag they'd decided to share.

"Yeah," Rick nodded, shifting his daughter onto his opposite hip. "Get your stuff. Gabriel can take care of Judith while we're gone."

"No, I'm not coming," the teen countered, confusing his father. "Someone's gotta stay back, keep this place safe. A kid with a messed-up face probably wouldn't make the best first impression anyway."

Georgie's heart nearly broke, hearing Carl speak like that. "Honey, there's nothing messed up about you. I will stab anyone in the neck who says otherwise," she insisted, reaching her hands out to rest upon his shoulders and then pulling him into a big ol' hug. Turning her face, she pressed her lips into his hair and gave him a brief kiss before pulling back. He stared back at her, seeming a bit sad and yet happy at the same time. "But if you don't want to come, you don't have to. Just don't think you shouldn't just because you got a badass eyepatch."

Carl snickered. "It's not even a real eyepatch. It's just a bandage."

Rick looked at his son and frowned; a bit caught off guard by his previous comment.

"We'll have to rectify that as soon as we can find one," Georgie remarked, placing her hands on her hips. She turned and eyed Rick. "Won't we?"

Rick nodded, agreeing. "Yeah."

Lifting Judith off him, Rick passed her off to Carl and gave the teen a knowing nod. Apparently father and son had the ability to express whatever else they needed or wanted to say to each other with that simple gesture. As Carl took his sister into his arms, he simultaneously handed off the gas canister to his father.

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Georgie assured.

Rick had already walked off toward as Abraham called out chewing up some asphalt, but Georgie wasn't too content with just leaving the boy behind like that, so she lingered; eyeing up the teen and his sister.

When he realized she was still standing there, he smirked. "Look after my dad, will ya? He tends to get himself into some shit."

Despite her instinctive maternal concerns creeping around in her mind, Georgie couldn't help but laugh. "I'll look after him but I can't promise it'll do any good."

Carl laughed as well and then lifted Judith's hand to make her wave. "Say bye-bye, Judy."

With her free hand, Judith pulled her pacifier out of her mouth and began to pout when she seemed to understand both her father and Georgie were going away. "Mama," the toddler muttered with a slowly quivering chin.

"Oh." Georgie's heart swelled and ached at the same time. Stepping up closer to Judith and Carl, she placed her hands on either side of the little girl's face and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Me and your daddy will be home soon, okay? Be good for Carl. No parties."

Carl snickered. "Go. Abraham looks like a vein is gonna burst in his head."

Georgie looked over her shoulder at the burly ex-army sergeant and rolled her eyes. "He can wait a minute longer."

Kissing Judith's forehead once more and then Carl's cheek, Georgie stepped back and gave a small wave before turning around and heading toward the door to the RV. Ignoring Abraham's impatient look, she climbed up into the vehicle just as she heard Judith begin to wail. Her heart aching again, Georgie looked around for a place to sit, and quickly noticed Rick was gesturing her over to take the empty passenger seat beside him as he was driving.

"Judy okay?" he asked, as the weight of Abraham climbing into the vehicle shook it slightly.

Georgie nodded. "She'll be fine. Kids have the attention span of a gnat at that age. Carl will be able to distract her."

The door slamming shut had nothing to do with the ginger man's frustration over wanting to make good time; just with the simple fact that he had done it too quickly. When he plopped down into an empty seat beside Michonne and Daryl, the RV shook once more.

Rick threw a look over his shoulder at the larger man. "We good?"

"I'd be right as fucking rain if we weren't dallying around so damned much."

Rolling his eyes slightly, Rick eyed Georgie as he smirked and started the ignition. "I'm feeling a bit of déjà vu."

"Oh?"

"Last time you and I drove in this thing together, the day didn't end up going as planned."

Georgie chuckled a little. "Since when does anything ever go as planned?"

Rick shrugged and began to put the RV into gear. "Point taken."

* * *

The RV had been cruising at a decent speed down a leaf- and debris-covered road for a little over an hour. Because of the very early start to the day for everyone, most were quiet and trying to catnap; Maggie especially, but most of her exhaustion could easily be attributed to her pregnancy draining her. As the hush voices of Abraham and Glenn wafted toward the front of the vehicle, Rick tried glimpsing back at them by way of his peripheral vision without actively eavesdropping on whatever the two men were talking about. The only he would actually manage to understand what was being said would be turning around and leaning in, but that couldn't be done when he was driving. Instead, Rick chose it wasn't important. It wasn't his conversation, therefore none of his business. If it was something that pertained to him, he was sure as shit Abraham would make it known.

Rick chose to focus the attention he could spare from the road to Georgie. Keeping his left hand on the steering wheel, he reached out with his right and felt around for Georgie's leg. When his fingers touched down upon her knee, he cupped his hand over it and gave it a squeeze. A smile toyed at his lips when she draped her hand over his and then entwined their fingers together.

Casually, they looked at each other, love sprinkled all over their faces.

"Thank you for earlier," he muttered quietly.

"For what?"

"With Carl, after what he said about being messed up; when you hugged him and told him he was okay. I should've done that."

"You had Judith in your arms."

"I could've hugged him and told him he was okay with Judith in my arms," he insisted, focusing his blue eyes upon the road again. "Point is, I didn't, and I feel like an asshole. I should've done it. I just didn't know how to react. He said it so nonchalantly like it was okay. But it ain't."

Georgie frowned. "It's still relatively soon after his injury. I think, all things considered, he's doing pretty well."

"Physically, maybe. I'm just a bit worried about the mental part of it, in the long run."

"Well," she sighed, giving his hand a squeeze. "He has all of us. He has a family, friends; people who love him and will be there to help him in whatever he's going through or needs."

"Yeah, he does," Rick nodded, glancing back at her.

"Make sure to give him a big hug when we get home."

Rick looked at the road, and then back at her. "I will."

As they both brought their gazes back to the road ahead of him, they both noticed the swerved tire tracks in the road, a trail of blood and an overturned car in a ditch on the side of the road.

"Rick, what's going on?" Daryl asked.

"We got a crash ahead. Looks like it just happened," he replied, slowing the RV down, and pulling over onto the property where the accident occurred.

Underneath the car was a walker, pinned and reaching out at the approaching RV. Another walker could be seen caught up in the front, right wheel well, still moving as well. There was blood and other entrails slathered along the underside of the vehicle from both walkers which had clearly been struck; causing the accident. The group inside the RV was plenty alert now and all standing up to certain degrees to peer out the front window to get a glimpse at the accident they were approaching. As desensitized as most survivors were nowadays to the sight and existence of the dead wandering around trying to eat the living, it was still always going to be odd to see, regardless.

"That's one of ours," Jesus stated, suddenly very anxious.

Rick had barely brought the RV to a complete stop when Jesus darted for the door and jumped out. Throwing the vehicle into park and turning the ignition off, Rick was quick to grab his gun from its holster and dart out after the other man. As Jesus moved around the front of the overturned car, Rick drew his Colt on him, to which Jesus was quickly and astutely aware.

"If this is a trick, it won't end well for you," Rick warned as the others filed out of the RV, taking point and assessing the scene to make sure it wasn't some sort of trap; that there weren't any unfriendly types hidden to jump out at them.

"My people are in trouble," Jesus insisted. "They don't—we don't have a lot of fighters. I know how it looks, but I'll play it out. Can I borrow a gun?"

"Nah," Daryl replied brusquely, gesturing to Rick for his attention and then pointing at the ground. "We got tracks right here."

Urging Jesus to walk with them, the group followed the tracks Daryl spotted toward the nearby building where the tracks seemed to disappear into. Almost everyone had their own weapons drawn and at the ready by this point. Stepping up to the closed, glass doors, Rick lifted a fist and banged on them; trying to draw out any lurkers inside. Taking a couple steps back, he kept his eyes trained on the doors and waited.

"They gotta be in there," Jesus said.

"We moving in or what?" Abraham asked; a hand on the gun strapped to his hip.

"How do we know this isn't firecrackers in a trashcan?" Daryl questioned skeptically.

"You don't," Jesus admitted.

Rick stared back at the man, dropping his arms down at his sides. "We'll get your people. You're staying here with one of us."

Jesus looked behind him, catching they eye of Michonne who shook her head back at him.

"That's the deal," she asserted.

"Will you stay?" Glenn asked, walking up to his wife.

"Yeah," Maggie nodded as Rick pulled handcuffs out of his back pocket and approached Jesus with them. "Y'all go. Just be careful."

"Yeah, we're gonna be careful," Rick remarked, pulling Jesus' arms behind his back and slapping the cuffs around his wrists. Looking over his shoulder toward Maggie, he added, "You hear me whistle, shoot him."

"I will."

As the group began to move for the doors, Georgie hung back, alerting Rick to her hesitation. "What's wrong?" he asked, as Daryl opened a door and the others began to slip slowly inside.

"Nothing," Georgie assured. "I'm gonna stay out here with Maggie. Two heads are better than one, you know? In case there are others somewhere around here, she shouldn't be by herself with him. We know how crafty he is at getting out being bound."

Rick nodded in agreement. "Alright."

With a nod of his head, he gave her a look that said for her to be careful, the same as he promised Maggie they would be inside. As darted into the building, Daryl slipped in behind him, letting the door shut.

"You didn't have to stay. I got this," Maggie commented, keeping her gun trained on Jesus.

"He's good at giving us the slip," Georgie shrugged. "Better two sets of eyes on him than one."

Accepting the ginger's company, Maggie did seem a bit relieved despite maintaining a stubborn stance. Jesus didn't seem as relieved. Even though they had no definite reason to trust him as far as they could throw him, neither female could deny he appeared very worried about his people. That was enough to make Georgie and Maggie not feel as threatened by the situation as they normally would be. He was cuffed, they both had guns aimed in his direction and their own people were near enough.

"How're you holding up?" Georgie inquired after a couple of minutes of silence; eyeing Maggie knowingly.

"Little nauseous. Other than that I'm fine."

"That's good." After a moment, she added, "Crackers."

"What?"

"Crackers and either peppermint or spearmint tea; they help with the nausea," Georgie clarified. "Avoid ginger teas, though. They tend to cause heartburn."

Maggie nodded with a small smile. "Thanks for the tidbits. No one has really been offering me any words of advice."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, Carol's…quiet on that front. Normally she'd be the person who I'd expect to offer advice, or even one of our community's housewives. And I didn't want to come to you with anything so soon after…you know."

Lowering her gun slightly, Georgie brought her focus off of Jesus and primarily onto Maggie instead. "I'm not in that place anymore. I can't be. If you need anything, anything at all, you come to me about it, okay?"

Smiling more appreciatively, Maggie again nodded. "I will."

"Promise me. Especially if anything feels off. Let me know. I'll do what I can."

"Are you pregnant?" Jesus asked over his shoulder at Maggie.

"Face forward," Georgie warned, jabbing the barrel of her gun between his shoulder blades.

"Just trying to make conversation," he maintained, looking toward the glass doors. "I hear lemon tea is supposed to help with nausea, too."

Maggie and Georgie simply exchanged a look with each other in response.

* * *

Not too long after, Rick and the others had come back outside with four of Jesus' friends; one of them, a guy named Freddie, was injured from the accident they'd been in. After loading everyone back into the RV, Rick removed the cuffs from Jesus' hands and Wesley was laid down upon a bed in the back of the vehicle and was looked after by his own. Once again behind the wheel, Rick continued their journey with Georgie reclaiming her place beside him. Jesus kept watch just behind them, navigating where to go; where to turn here and there. Eventually, Freddie came to sit beside Jesus and Maggie and Glenn migrated to the back with the man who had tended to Freddie; a man they would all soon learn was a doctor.

After nearly another hour of driving, the RV became stuck in some mud in the road. Rick tried pressing down on the gas pedal, but there was no movement. The RV wouldn't lurch forward enough for them to keep going without a few of them getting out and manually pushing the vehicle out of the rut it was in. the wheels just keep spinning to no avail.

"Dammit," Rick grumbled. "A storm must've passed through. We're stuck."

Jesus stood up and looked out the windshield. "No worries," he insisted, patting Rick's shoulder. "We're here."

Throwing the RV into park and turning the engine off once again, Rick shoved the keys into his pocket and stood up as Jesus exited the vehicle first. Everyone began to follow after him with their guns and other weapons in hand, stepping down into deep puddles of mud that doused their shoes and splattered up onto the legs of their pants.

Up ahead just slightly, on a slight incline up from the road, was a massive wall made of wooden posts.

"That's us," Jesus announced. "That's the Hilltop."

Slowly, everyone made their way up the muddy dirt road leading up to this new, walled community. The group from Alexandria was considerably tense, not exactly knowing what they were being brought to, despite what Jesus had claimed. This could've all been a very elaborate plan hatched to get them where he wanted and overpower them. Get their defenses down with sob stories of having no fighters and people just in need of supplies was one way to do it. At least that's how Rick was feeling about it, which was why he wasn't ready to drop the automatic rifle in his hands; keeping it close to him as they approached the gate.

"Stop right there," came a voice.

Without missing a beat, Rick's group aimed their weapons up toward the top of the wall in complete synchronization.

Jesus also instinctively turned around to face the group with his hands up. "Whoa!"

"You gonna make us?" Daryl taunted the two men atop the wall with spears in their hands.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" one of the two men demanded.

"Open the gates, Cal. Freddie's hurt." Turning to eye Rick's group, he frowned. "Look, sorry about these guys. They get antsy standing up there all day doing nothing."

"They give up the weapons. Then we'll open the gates."

"Why don't you come down here and get 'em?" Daryl dared.

Carson, the doctor approached and spoke up. "Gentlemen, look, we vouch for these people, alright? They _saved_ us out there. _Lower_ the _spears_," he implored.

"Look, I'm not taking any chances," Rick muttered to Jesus. Tell your guy Gregory to come out here."

"No."

"No?" Georgie repeated. "Is that a 'no' because you don't _want_ to or—"

Jesus cast an eye toward her briefly before focusing solely on Rick. "Don't you see what just happened? I'm letting you keep your guns. Look, we ran out of ammo months ago. I like you people. I trust you. Trust us."

After a moment of staring each other down, Rick relented and threw a hand up for his people to rally forward.

Jesus turned back around to face the wall, casting his eyes upward. "Open the gates, Cal."

Without any further hesitation, the gates creaked open to reveal a community that looked like they had all just stepped back in time about two or three centuries. There was a stately, Georgian manor house and a farming community surrounding it. As the mix of Alexandrians and Hilltoppers passed through the gates, Jesus led the way slowly, watching the newcomers taking in the sights of crops growing, livestock being looked after, and life just going on.

"Hey, thanks again," Carson spoke, helping the other Hilltopper called Wesley walk with Freddie. Turning he addressed Glenn and Maggie, specifically. "Come see me whenever. I'm just over here in the medical trailer, okay?"

"There was a materials yard for a power company nearby. That's how we put up the walls," Jesus began to explain. "A lot of people came from a FEMA camp. Trailers came with them."

"How did people find out about this place?" Michonne wondered.

Jesus faced forward and gestured to the mansion. "That's called Barrington House. Family that owned it gave it to the state in the '30s. The state turned it into a living history museum. Every elementary school for fifty miles used to come here for field trips. This place was running a long time before the modern world built up around it. I think people came here because they figured it'd keep running after the modern world broke down." He pointed up further near the roof. "Those windows up there let us see for miles in every direction. It's perfect for security. Come on. I'll show you inside.

The group followed after Jesus with a mix of awe and trepidation.

This was the kind of community they were hoping to build for themselves; to be self-sustaining. But, in the meantime, they would need Hilltop to barter with. They would have to work something out because they _needed_ to make this work. They _needed_ it. There was only so much they could do with scavenging before all nearby abandoned homes and other establishments had been picked clean by themselves or other survivors out there.

Walking inside the house, they were greeted by the immensity of the interior; and honestly it was just gorgeous. It really did feel like they'd stepped back in time. Every decoration and detail was, at the very least, a hundred or a hundred and fifty years old. Portraits of people dead for centuries adorned the walls and ornate wooden tables were bedecked with brass candlesticks and first editions of books, amongst many other period items.

"Good gracious, Ignatius," Abraham remarked, taking it all in, as Jesus shut the door behind him.

"Most of the rooms have been converted into living spaces," Jesus explained further. "Even the ones that _weren't_ bedrooms."

"People live here and the trailers?" Rick wondered, looking around.

"We plan to build." He eyed Maggie and Glenn, knowingly. "There's babies being born."

A door opened up and a, older man in clean dress clothes stepped out, smiling slightly upon the Hilltop scout. "Jesus, you're back," he greeted, glancing around at everyone else with an amused raise of an eyebrow. "With guests."

"Everyone, this is Gregory. He keeps the trains running on time around here," Jesus introduced.

Gregory threw his hands out at his side and grinned. "I'm the boss."

"Well, I'm Rick. We have a community—" Rick began before Gregory cut him off.

"Why don't y'all go get cleaned up, hmm?" he said as if Rick hadn't even spoken to begin with.

_Strike one_, Georgie thought, narrowing her gaze toward the man as she sidled up unconsciously beside Rick.

"We're fine," Rick insisted, insisted, biting back considerably.

Gregory didn't seem to give two shits. "Jesus will show you where you can get washed up. Then come back down here when you're ready," he continued, rather condescendingly, stepping right up to Rick and adding quietly, "It's hard to keep this place clean."

_Strike two._

"Yeah. Sure." Rick smiled, flashing a friendly smile.

Georgie stood the closest to him of their group, but everyone could feel the disdain and slight rage starting to emanate off of Rick like toxic fumes.

Jesus rolled his eyes and threw Rick a sympathetic look. "Follow me."

Leading the way up the stairs, one by one the group from Alexandria began to follow.

"You clean up first," Rick muttered to Maggie. "You talk to him."

"Why?"

His response, paired with a slight sneer and shrug of his shoulder said plenty. "I shouldn't. And you gotta start doing these things."

As the group reached the second floor, Maggie and Glenn went off to one of the bathrooms, which they all found confusing, given the era this house was stuck in. Jesus had to explain the modern plumbing had been put in long before the state acquired the house and modernized even more for the people who worked within the home once it became a living museum. While the married couple freshened up in one of the bathrooms, Rick and Georgie were shown to another as the rest waited their turn.

Once in the privacy of the bathroom in question, Rick sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. He draped his rifle across his lap and stared up at Georgie who turned on the faucet to the sink and was surprised to find the water was running.

"Must run on a well water system," she muttered as she splashed some of the cool water onto her face and then grabbed for the bar of soap to lather up her hands. "What do you think?"

"Of the plumbing?"

"No, all of this," Georgie replied with a shrug of her shoulders. And then, more pointedly, she added, "On Gregory."

"I think he's a prick."

Georgie smiled and nodded. "You too?" Rinsing her hands off, she reached for a towel to dry them off and then stepped back for Rick to take a turn.

As he stood up, he looked down at the sink and then up at her, shaking his head. "I'm fine," he maintained.

"To be fair, you haven't had a shower since yesterday morning and all that running around and sweating we've done since..."

Rick smirked. "You took a shower last night. You can be clean enough for the both of us."

"That's not how that works," Georgie chuckled.

Making a face, Rick gestured with a nod of his head toward the closed bathroom door. "Fuck him. The state of my hygiene is not why we're here."

Pursing her lips, Georgie placed her hands upon Rick's chest and curled her fingers under the collar of his white T-shirt. "For me, then."

"Don't you like my stink?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Well, I _have_ made out with you smelling worse."

"Likewise." Leaning in, Rick pressed his lips to hers. "You're referring to that barn, right?"

"I am."

"That was an interesting night."

"_Every_ night with you is an interesting night, Rick."

Narrowing his eyes, he continued to grin and then obliged her by turning on the faucet and sticking his hands under the cool stream of water. "That a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Always a good thing, of course. It's with you."

Reaching for the soap, he began to lather his hands up, but only just barely. "Let me know if I ever bore you and stop bringing my A game."

"Will do."

* * *

Later on, after Maggie had gone down and talked to Gregory in his office, the group gathered once again in that entrance room, either standing or sitting around. Maggie gave a verbatim play by play of the entire discussion she'd just had, about how Gregory would only help Alexandria if they worked for it, instead of just trading, and how, when she pointed out Hilltop's lack of ammo and medicine, proposing they simply all help each other out, he became insulted and ended their conversation.

"You said there were other communities," Georgie remarked, looking pointedly at Jesus; sitting in a chair that Rick was perched on the armrest of. "Gregory is your leader. How is it he doesn't know how to enter into talks like this? How the hell did he end up in a position of power here?"

"We _want_ to generate trade," Jesus assured. "Gregory _does_. But ammo isn't something we urgently need."

Rick found that a bit perplexing. "Well, how's that?" he questioned, sitting up straight.

"The walls hold. We just brought in more medicine. Gregory wants the best deal possible."

"Yeah, well, we want things, too," Daryl countered, pacing slightly.

"We need food. We came all this way, we're gonna get it." With a nonchalant shrug, Rick merely spoke matter-of-fact. There would be no room for negotiation in that.

Jesus stared back, sighing inwardly. Standing there now, he looked considerably more comfortable without all those extra layers of clothing; instead in just his pants, boots and a loose-fitting white shirt. "I will talk to him and we will work this out," he insisted, looking at the others. "Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"

"We can," Michonne announced, decidedly.

Georgie found herself looking across the room at Michonne, who looked back at her. Twisting her lips, she nodded in agreement and lifted her hand to give Rick's leg a knowing squeeze. "We can," she repeated for his ears only when he still seemed hesitant.

Looking down at her out the corner of his eye, Rick nodded; giving in. "Yeah."

At the sound of footsteps coming up toward the front door and a faint commotion from outside, the group stood up. They directed their attention forward as the front door opened, revealing Wesley, who looked flustered. The doors to Gregory's office opened up as well, and he stepped out; concerned.

"What's wrong?" Gregory implored.

Wesley gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. Whatever it was that was going on, it didn't seem like good news. "They're back."

One by one, everyone followed the three Hilltoppers out of the house, down the steps and toward three people approaching from the gate.

"Ethan, what happened to everybody else? Where's Tim and Marsha?" Gregory asked, as the larger of the three — Ethan — stalked forward with a terrible scowl on his face.

"They're dead."

"Negan?"

"Yeah."

"We had a deal," Gregory remarked, hands on his hips and sounding put off.

"He said it wasn't enough," the other, newly returned Hilltopper informed. "Was the drop light?"

"No."

"They still have Craig," the female Hilltopper spoke.

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I delivered a message to you," Ethan continued, stepping closer.

Gregory nodded. "So tell me."

Ethan placed his left hand on Gregory's shoulder. He looked a little beside himself; almost guilty. "I'm sorry," he muttered, mere seconds before plunging a knife into the older man's gut.

Rick was quick to action, though, running forward to help subdue Ethan as Gregory fell backward. Jesus, Maggie and Glenn rushed forward and caught him, easing him down; all stunned by the turn of events. Michonne and Rick had each grabbed one of Ethan's arms, dragging him backward as the larger man tried shrugging them off.

"Get off of me!" he bellowed. "I had to!"

Ethan took a swing at Rick, which the latter blocked; shoving Ethan's arm down and out of the way enough, and kneeing him in the chest before knocking him backward onto the ground. Rick's inner rage monster bubbled a little too quickly to the surface as he doled out punch after punch to Ethan's head until the other newly-returned Hilltopper (who they would eventually learn was named Andy) pried Rick off and shoved him away. Abraham, in turn, lunged at Andy, as Rick got back to his feet in time to throw himself back at Ethan, who was trying to reach for his knife again. While Rick and Ethan struggled with each other, Andy had somehow bested Abraham; perched on the ginger's chest and wrapping his hands so tightly around Abraham's neck that Abraham was turning red from lack of oxygen. Daryl, however, was on that. Running over, he grabbed Andy's arm and snapped it the wrong way. Once Andy dropped to the ground in pain, Daryl aimed his gun at him.

Temporarily distracted by what had been going on with those three, Rick was caught off guard as Ethan shoved him off and rolled over to pin him to the ground instead. Ethan's knife, which was still very much covered in Gregory's blood, was swiftly brought to Rick's neck, which threw Rick's group into panic mode.

"Hey!" Glenn shouted, approaching quickly and reaching for the gun in his shoulder holster.

"Stay back!" Ethan warned, prepared to slice Rick's throat open. "Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!"

Georgie stood a few feet in the opposite direction from Glenn, both staring nervously toward the burly blonde man threatening Rick's life. Georgie, however, couldn't take any chances in losing the man she loved by doing nothing.

"Hey," she barked at Ethan, casting a brief glance at Rick who blinked at her in sort of coded tell. "Over here."

The second Ethan took a moment to look over at her, Rick had lifted his arm and shoved his own blade into Ethan's neck. Blood instantly spurted out like a faucet on full blast. Rick didn't let up right away; keeping the knife in his hand buried in Ethan's neck as blood spilled down over his own neck and the lower half of his face. When he did pull the knife out, he covered the wound with his hand and shoved Ethan away so he could pull himself back up to his feet.

As Rick stood there, drenched in sweat, Ethan's blood and covered in dirt and hay from the ground. Turning around, he found the Hilltoppers standing at their posts, completely stunned by the brutality of what just happened.

Catching his breath, Rick looked back at all of them. "What?"

"Ethan!" Andy cried out, holding his arm which Daryl had likely broken. "You killed him!"

"He tried to kill Gregory, then me," Rick disputed.

The female — Crystal — that had just returned with Ethan and Andy ran right up to Rick and punched him hard enough that he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Before she could attack him any further, Georgie turned and kicked the Crystal in the chest, and then Michonne came up and all but clotheslined her. Their tag team approach to subduing Crystal resulted in her flat on her back as a bit of hay got kicked up around her.

Georgie aimed her gun at Crystal, but Michonne shoved her hand away.

"Don't," Michonne cautioned.

Letting out a shaky sigh of frustration, Georgie obliged her friend and stepped back, but kept an eye on the downed female. "Try anything. I dare you," she taunted.

As Rick got back up to his feet, gun in hand, and as Daryl kept his own gun pointed at Andy, Cal began stalking forward. "Drop it now!" he shouted, aiming his spear at Rick.

"I don't think will," Rick replied, who walked forward aiming his Colt right back.

In a flurry of motion, Jesus ran forward, leaving Maggie alone at Gregory's side as he jumped between Rick, Cal and Eduardo (the other Hilltopper from the wall) to diffuse the situation. "Everyone, this is _over_!" he panted. "This is _over_! Ethan was our friend. But let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us," he addressed his fellow Hilltoppers. "_He_ did this. And these people stopped it."

"What can I do?" Rick asked, calmly.

"Put the gun away. You've done enough." As Rick lowered his gun, and while Crystal had moved to cry over Ethan's dead body, Jesus leaned in toward Rick. "You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time."

* * *

Once more, Rick and Georgie found themselves in the same upstairs bathroom of the manor house; only, this time, Rick was indeed getting cleaned up. He stood there at the sink, a dry towel in his hand as Georgie was lathering up a wet washcloth with the bar of soap they'd used earlier.

"Turn," she muttered, and he turned to face her.

Rick's eyes settled on currently expressionless face as she brought the washcloth up to his and began to wipe the blood from around his mouth and chin. She wiped all around, and down to his neck, rinsing the rag out occasionally, and then repeating the process a few more times until she'd gotten most of the blood off his skin. And he just let her do it. He had two hands. He was prepared to do it himself. Georgie, however, seemed to feel the need to do it for him. It wasn't the first time she'd cleaned blood off his face and it likely wouldn't be the last time either.

When she was content that his face was clean enough, she rinsed the washcloth out once more and then brought it down upon the front of his shirt where he blood had seeped into the white material and was staining.

"You need to stop wearing white shirts," she spoke after a while.

"White's reflective. It doesn't absorb the sunlight like darker colors. It's cooler this way."

"You're wearing a jacket. Your point is invalid."

Rick attempted to smirk while he maintained his gaze on her, studying the way she pursed her lips and clenched her jaw. He'd known her long and intimately enough by now to know she was upset about something other than the blood staining his shirt.

"You mad at me about what happened?" he asked. "About what I did to that guy?"

She'd gotten as much of the blood off his shirt as she was going to be able to, so she simply rinsed the washcloth out once more before draping it over the edge of the sink and turning the faucet off. Gripping the sink's edge, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and then placed her free hand upon her hip. Lifting her eyes up to his, Georgie shook her head and sighed. "I'm not mad at you or what you did. I'm not even mad at that guy. He was scared. He lost people."

"So then why do you look like you wanna strangle someone?"

"Because I was scared," she admitted. "Even though I'm not mad at that guy, it doesn't mean I wasn't scared about it all."

"You didn't seem too scared back there. You were prepared to kick ass and take names the same as I was. The same as the rest of us."

Georgie shrugged. "Fear's a great motivator." She sighed. "He had that knife to your throat, and before I realized you had your knife out, and before I saw that look you gave me, I was scared you'd get your throat slit. I was scared you were going to die right there in front of me. How…how would I have gone home and told Carl?"

Rick cast his eyes downward and nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend for things to escalate like that."

"I know you didn't. Doesn't change the fact that it still scared me, though."

"Well, I didn't die. Not today anyway." Rick shrugged this time. "Then again, the day is still young."

"Don't even joke," she warned. "You know I can't lose you, too, so soon after…"

Rick leaned his forehead down against her and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know." Lifting his hands to the sides of her face, he tilted his down and kissed her nose. "I have no plans on leaving you alone with the kids anytime soon. I mean, I know what we plan and what actually happens always seem to be two different things, but some things I will see through no matter what, and not dying on you is one of them."

"Promise?" she asked as he pulled his face back; a ghost of a smile toying at the corners of her lips.

"Promise."

Inhaling a deep breath and then loudly exhaling it, Georgie nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah." Then, "You're presentable again. We should head back down. See how things are progressing."

"Yeah."

Just as she turned to reach for the door, Rick reached out and grabbed her wrist. Pulling her back toward him, he snaked his arms around her waist and embraced her tightly, nuzzling his damp face against her neck and kissing his way up to the corner of her mouth. Properly kissing her, they both seemed to revel in taking that moment to just center themselves; in finding some peace with each other and collecting their thoughts.

"Okay," he whispered, leaning back. "_Now_ let's go back down."

* * *

"Dr. Carson was able to patch Gregory up." Jesus was standing in front of the fireplace in Gregory's office, letting the group know how things were going. "He's in pain, but he'll live."

"So, what happens now?" Michonne asked.

"Things like that don't usually happen here, but, uh, it's settled."

"We heard the name Negan," Rick spoke up, pushing off from the desk he'd been leaning against. "A while back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?"

"Negan's the head of a group of people he calls the Saviors. As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up. They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And he killed one of us—Rory. He was 16 years old. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat," Jesus explained. "Gregory's not exactly good at confrontation. He's not the leader I would've chosen, but he helped make this place what it is, and the people like him."

"He made the deal," Maggie deduced.

Jesus nodded. "Half of everything. Our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to the Saviors."

"And what do you get in return?" Glenn wondered, arms folded and curious.

"They don't attack this place. They don't kill us."

"Why not just kill _them_?" Daryl piped in.

"Most of the people here don't even know how to fight, even if we had ammo."

Rick frowned. "Well, how many people does Negan have?"

"We don't know. We've seen groups as big as twenty."

"Now, hold up," Daryl muttered. "So, they show up, they kill a kid, and you give them _half_ of everything? These dicks just got a good story. The bogeyman, he ain't shit."

"Well, how do you know?"

"A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. Left them in pieces and puddles," Abraham enlightened.

Daryl looked to Abraham and then back to Jesus. "You know, we'll do it. If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up?" he asked, pointing at Jesus to drive his question home. "We want food, medicine, and one of them cows."

Georgie smirked from where she sat atop Gregory's desk, her feet dangling over the edge. She didn't know why, but the image of Daryl somehow loading a cow into the RV to bring back to Alexandria just seemed hilarious to her.

"Confrontation's never been something _we've_ had trouble with," Rick commented with a blasé shrug.

"I'll take it to Gregory," Jesus said, leaving the group alone as he exited the office.

* * *

After a little while of lingering in the office, Rick took it upon himself to wander off; get a feel for the ins and outs of the manor house. Some might call it snooping, while he looked at it as figuring out all the exits and trying to better understand how this community worked while no one was around to tell him he couldn't. The Hilltoppers were too busy burning Ethan's body on a pyre they'd built near the edge of their community.

Georgie and Michonne had followed after him when, poking their heads into all the rooms and seeing how the floorplan was laid out. When Rick made his way toward the upper porch, Maggie and Glenn had made their way up and joined them as well. Abraham and Daryl were unaccounted for at the moment; likely seeing to Daryl's proposal about taking some supplies back with them to Alexandria.

"They have food, we don't," Rick muttered, looking at Georgie who stood at his left with her hand on the white railing. "We don't have much of anything. Except us. What we can do." He turned from her and then glanced to Michonne at his right while mirroring Georgie by gripping the white railing in front of him. With a sniff and a nod, mostly to himself, Rick pushed off the railing and turned around to face everyone. "This is the trade."

"It's gonna cost us something," Maggie said, a significant amount of gloom and doom laced in her hushed voice.

"Nothing's ever been free in this world," Georgie retorted. "Blood is gonna get spilled. We just gotta fight like hell to make sure it ain't ours."

The doors onto the porch clicked and out walked Jesus. "Gregory's up. He wants to talk," he informed. As Rick began to step forward, he added, "To Maggie. He wants to talk to Maggie."

Glenn looked to his wife and nodded at her. "You got this," he championed.

Not as certain as her husband was, Maggie cast her green eyes over toward Rick, looking mildly stressed. Rick, however, felt the same as Glenn. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Deanna was right about you."

Nodding, she accepted his words and walked off without second guessing herself any further.

"I'm sorry in advance," Jesus apologized. "Gregory can be a real prick."

"I know," Maggie muttered.

* * *

Whatever Maggie said to Gregory during their second conversation together had worked exceptionally well. She had successfully negotiated getting half of everything Hilltop had in exchange for Alexandria taking of Negan and the Saviors. While they didn't actually get the cow Daryl had suggested they take, they were walking away with quite the bounty of goods.

"Even Negan didn't get this much supplies up front," Jesus mused as he walked past Rick and Georgie with basket in his arms.

Rick smirked and then looked forward as Daryl and Abraham approached with Andy.

"What?" the Hilltopper questioned with little to no patience.

"Jesus said you've been taking supplies to Negan since the beginning," Rick spoke. "We're gonna get Craig back."

"The only way to get Craig back is to bring them Gregory's head."

"We're gonna get Craig back," Georgie insisted, backing Rick's claim.

"How?"

Rick tilted his head slightly. "We need to know what you know about Negan's compound. We need your help. We need you to come."

Not overly fond of the idea, Andy looked understandably perturbed, but gathered up his backbone regardless. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."

As he walked off and headed for the RV with Abraham, Daryl and Georgie, Rick walked over to a picnic table and tossed a burlap bag into a wicker basket. As he lifted the basket up, Jesus picked up a plastic tub filled with other supplies and sidled up beside Rick.

"You got room for one more, right? I mean, we're talking about righting the world here. Plus, you still have my knives."

Jesus didn't even wait for Rick to respond. He simply took the tub with him as he climbed up into the RV as Michonne and Georgie watched the others settling inside.

Chuckling sarcastically after the younger man, Rick set the basket into the RV and then brought his gaze over to both women before him as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, you two up for this?" he asked.

"It's gonna be a fight," Michonne responded.

"It's a fight we'd end up having sooner or later, regardless," Georgie commented. "If this Negan guy and his band of not so merry men have been doing what they've been doing here to Hilltop, and how they tried to do the same on the road with Daryl, Abraham and Sasha, who's to say they aren't doing this to any other settlements out there?" Both Rick and Michonne looked back at her and seemed to agree with what she was saying. "It's only a matter of time before they would find us and try the same."

"We'll win. We have to," Rick insisted.

Michonne nodded. "We'll win."

As she turned and climbed up into the bus, Rick walked toward the picnic table but stopped halfway there. Looking down toward the ground, his hand hovered over his holstered Colt as the severity of what they were planning to undertake began to seep into his mind.

"We'll be okay." Georgie was still leaning against the RV, watching after Rick; studying the slump of his shoulders and how he hung his head. It was as if he was already feeling defeated. Pushing off the side of the vehicle, she sauntered up beside him and then stepped in front of him; blocking his path to the picnic table where one more tub of supplies was waiting to be transported into the RV. "Jesus was right this morning when he said our world was going to get bigger. This fight isn't something we can avoid. If we want to live in a better world, we gotta take the steps to make it such. People like the Saviors, they're what's wrong with the world and we can stop that. We can stop them."

"Yeah." Rick's hand still shook slightly as it hovered over his gun.

Noticing as much, Georgie reached out and took it. The sensation had an instant calming effect and Rick smiled, and then she smiled because he did. "We'll be okay," she repeated.


	35. This Is How We Eat

**Author's Note: I'm baaaaaaaack. **

**_xoxo, Holly_**

* * *

_"__We are going to have peace even if we have to fight for it." _— Dwight D. Eisenhower

* * *

The gate to Alexandria slid open with a rattling clank allowing the RV enter into the community once the path was clear to do so. As the elongated vehicle turned right along the road beside the solar panels and then made a left up the road in front of the townhouses, the occupants inside the RV could hear voices from outside, alerting others to their return. Georgie was once again still seated beside Rick as he brought the RV to a stop near the section of wall that still needed to be removed as part of the community's expansion. As he did so, Sasha crossed in front of RV and Aaron appeared from beside the townhouses to approach Rick's side.

"Get Olivia. She should inventory what we have," Rick told them out his rolled down window. "We'll meet her at the Pantry."

Several of the others hopped out of the RV, such as Michonne, who now seemed a bit more sullen over the ordeal they'd have to soon undertake. Those that had stayed behind, like Carol, Tobin and Rosita began to approach to see how things had gone at Hilltop.

"You have food," Sasha deduced; a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah," Michonne confirmed, walking around the front of the RV. "Enough for another month."

Sasha looked from Michonne, who continued away from the RV on foot, and then back up toward Rick.

"I need everybody at the church in an hour," Rick informed.

"What is it?" Sasha asked.

Rick nodded and waved her off. "We'll talk about it," he replied as reached down to restart the engine.

The others, suddenly sensing things were gonna get pretty hairy, took their leave as Carol approached Rick's window; dressed in her typical Susie Homemaker ensemble as she looked up at him with concern.

"Rick, what's going on?"

With a frown, he replied, "We're gonna have to fight."

Carol cast her gaze further into the RV, saw Georgie seated in the passenger seat and then frowned a bit deeper at the blood that stained the collar of Rick's shirt; no doubt wondering what exactly went down at Hilltop and who they would have to fight, and why.

As the RV pulled away, leaving Carol where she stood, Georgie looked upon Rick's profile. "You think the people here will be ready?"

"There isn't much of a choice now, is there?"

Rick took his eyes off the road long enough to give Georgie a small frown of his own before returning his focus to driving; turning the corner to bring the RV up along the road behind the townhouses where the garage entrance for the Pantry was. When he put the RV into park again, this time Rick removed the keys and turned in his seat to face Georgie. She remained seated even after he stood up and looked back at the others still inside the RV, which included Jesus and Andy; their Hilltop "liaisons," so to speak.

Placing a hand to the back of Georgie's head, he leaned down and gave a peck to the top of her head. "C'mon," he advised. "Let's get this thing unloaded."

With a nod, Georgie agreed and finally made a move to stand.

* * *

An hour later, after the supplies had been removed from the RV and left in the Pantry for Olivia to inventory, Rick stood at the front of the church on the altar. He was wearing a clean shirt, on the behest of Georgie, and looking out at a sea of faces that were either staring back at him or had their eyes cast downward. To his right, Jesus sat. To his left, Andy.

"We can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal to get food: eggs, butter, fresh vegetables. They're not just giving it away. These _Saviors _— they almost killed Sasha, Daryl and Abraham on the road. Now, sooner or later, they would've found us…just like those Wolves did. Just like Jesus did. They would've killed someone or some of us, and then they would try to own us, and we _would_ try to stop them. But by then, and that kind of fight, low on food…we could lose. This is the only way to be sure — as _sure_ as we can get that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop. It's how we keep this place, it's how we _feed_ this place." Rick stood there, taking stock of everyone's facial expressions to see how they were taking in everything he'd been saying. He knew where everyone that had been to Hilltop stood. They'd been there with him and knew what they'd have to do. He needed to know that everyone else was on board. "This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your peace."

Seated beside Gabriel in the front pew to Rick's left, Georgie stared up at Rick and gave him a nod of solidarity. He had spoken well, with a cool head and she wanted him to know she had his back even if this was just a town hall meeting. As she turned her eyes from him, she looked over her shoulder, caught Maggie's eye for a moment and saw the younger woman was doing the same in looking around to see who might stand up and speak out against the plan at hand.

At the sound of movement in the back of the church, virtually everyone turned around to see Morgan standing; looking somewhat conflicted, as per usual.

"You sure we can do it?" he asked of Rick, specifically. "We can beat 'em?"

"What this group has done; what we've learned, what we've become, all of us. Yes, I'm sure," Rick answered without a hint of doubt in his voice.

Morgan nodded. "Then all we have to do is just tell 'em that."

"Th-they don't compromise—"

"This isn't a compromise," Morgan interrupted. "It's a choice you give 'em. It's a way out, for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our _safety_. No. We have to come for them before they come for us," Rick retorted, placing his hand on his hip, getting increasingly aggravated once more with the stance Morgan always took on things of this nature. "We can't leave them alive."

"Where there is life, there is possibility."

Georgie rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. "Oh, Christ." Realizing Gabriel was right next to her, she cast him a brief glance as if apologizing for using the Lord's name in vein in a church, but her remark seemed to be the least of his worries these days.

"Of them hitting us!" Rick bellowed.

"We're not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this."

"Morgan, they always come back."

"They come back when they're dead, too."

"Yeah, we'll stop them. We have before."

"I'm not talking about the walkers."

"Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me." Rick shook his head and look around at the other faces. "I'll talk to the people still at home. I'll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to _approach_ the Saviors, _talk_ to them first?"

"What happened here, we won't let that happen again," Aaron cut in; standing up to join in on the conversation. He looked directly at Morgan. "I won't."

As Morgan nodded at him, Aaron looked at Rick and nodded before taking his seat.

With no one else standing up to go against Rick's plan, he stood there, both hands on his hips as he resumed looking upon each face. There might've been a bit of pride in his demeanor, seeing that everyone felt as he did rather than how Morgan did. "Looks like it's settled. We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it, we _live_. We kill them all." That comment there, though, seemed to weigh heavily on several present, and it wasn't lost on Rick. "We don't all have to kill. But if people are gonna stay here they do have to accept it."

As Rick stalked off away down the aisle to leave the church, his eyed Morgan on purpose in regard to his last comment. He yanked the doors open letting some overcast light inside, leaving everyone else behind to look from one to another.

Slowly, one by one, each person seemed to follow. Georgie, unsurprisingly, was the first to leave, followed by Daryl, then Abraham, Michonne…

* * *

After doing just as he said he would, talking with the people at home or on watch and getting the same agreement to his plan as everyone else but Morgan, Rick made his way home where he took the time to embrace his children. Georgie had already arrived home before him and decided to start dinner, which Carol normally did, but was currently not present for. Dinner wasn't much. Instant mashed potatoes, rice, and a few slices of tomatoes she had seasoned with vegetable oil, garlic powder and pepper. Rick sat down quietly to eat with his children and Georgie; watching as Judith sat in Georgie's lap and was being spoon fed some of Georgie's mashed potatoes and making funny faces at the consistency of the food. It was enough to bring a smile to Rick's face and help take his mind off everything else for a little while.

Moments like this made him feel like it was the old world again, just…different. A good different, though. In the old world, there was no Judith and no Georgie in his life. It was just Carl, Lori and him. Either way, this was still his family, altered as it may be now, and he was extremely content with it.

Carl sat there, shoveling the potatoes into his mouth, apparently having skipped lunch, so he was plenty hungry now, to which Rick gently admonished him for doing. In between bites, the teenager told his father and Georgie about his day and then listened as Rick finally explained what they would be doing with the Saviors. There was no keeping his son in the dark anymore; not after all the boy had been forced to do and experience.

After dinner, Rick gathered everyone's dirty dishes, offering to clean up as Georgie went upstairs to give Judith a bath and while Carl disappeared to go up to his room to probably read some comic books. It was quiet in the house, aside from the sound of running water as he washed the dishes.

He was so engrossed with his thoughts and cleaning, he didn't hear Michonne and Daryl return until his name was being called. Turning to look over his shoulder, Rick looked upon the pair with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Huh?"

"We're gonna meet up with Jesus and Andy tomorrow morning to discuss the layout of the Saviors' compound," Michonne commented, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

"Got 'em put up in one of the apartments for the night," Daryl added, sidling up beside Michonne. "Figure since we're friendly with them now, they deserve better accommodations than where we left Jesus last night."

Rick nodded. "Alright."

"I know you're the main person championing for this cause, but are you okay with it?" Michonne inquired, drawing circles on the granite countertop with her finger.

"I was fine with it, but Morgan…he has this way of making me start to doubt myself. I mean," Rick remarked, shutting off the water and turning around so that the small of his back pressed against the edge of the sink. "He means well. I know that. He just doesn't get it. It drives me nuts."

"Yeah, I can see his point of view, even though it's not practical," Daryl quipped. "Before this world, maybe. Not now."

Rick nodded again. "I was glad to see everyone else was on board. I don't recall meeting with any hesitation even from the people I stopped to visit in their homes. They fought for this place when the walls came down, and they're ready to fight again. This is where I wanted this place to be when we first arrived. It would've been nice for Deanna to live to see it happen."

Michonne and Daryl both nodded.

"There's some rice and mashed potatoes left in those pots on the stove," Rick continued, gesturing to the appliance at his right. Pushing off the edge of the sink, he decided to leave the rest of the dishes behind. Wiping his hands on his pants, he gave a small sigh. "I'm gonna head upstairs. Call it a night."

"See ya at the ass crack of dawn," Daryl called after as Rick disappeared around the corner and up the stairs to the second floor.

With tired footsteps, Rick sauntered down the hallway where he poked his head into Carl's room first before anything else. Inside, he found his son sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, cleaning a gun rather than reading a comic book as Rick had expected.

"Are you worried about what I'm doing tomorrow night with the others?" he inquired.

Carl looked up briefly and shrugged before shaking his head. "No. We've dealt with assholes like this before. We can do it again."

Rick didn't bother chastising his son for he expletive. He just smirked. "You know 'we' doesn't include you, right? You're staying here."

"I figured as much." Carl began putting the gun back together as he looked up at his father again. "Someone's gotta stay behind and keep Judith safe."

"It's for your safety, too."

"Yeah, I know."

Rick hovered in the doorway a bit longer, watching his son put a gun back together like a seasoned veteran; something that made him feel a weird mixture of pride and sadness. Pride in how capable his son had become, but sadness because why his son had to become so capable. This was not the life he wanted his son leading and what it had cost him at so young an age, but knowing Carl could hold his own and protect himself, his sister and others was a comforting thought.

It was quite the double-edged sword.

"Don't stay up too late," Rick advised, his hand balancing on the doorknob.

"I won't," Carl answered; his focus on the gun instead of his father.

"G'night, Carl."

"Night."

Smirking again, but this time at how the gun held his son's attention, Rick closed the door behind him and continued toward the bathroom where he heard Georgie talking to Judith. Inside, Judith sat bare naked on Georgie's lap while Georgie was towel drying her off. Water in the tub had already drained out and there was a fresh diaper and a pink and purple striped onesie on top of the closed lid of the toilet.

Georgie looked up as soon as she felt the added presence in the doorway. "She had a very good bath," she greeted, nodding down at Judith. "She didn't put up a fuss about getting out of the tub this time. I think she must've had a busy day and is just too tired to care."

"Carl did say at dinner that he'd taken her on a few walks, as well as building castles with those oversized Legos that Sasha found for her on one of those supply runs last month."

Georgie nodded. "She loves those big Legos, and I love them, too, because they're too big for her to stick in her mouth and choke on," she remarked, turning the child in her lap and kissing her cheek. "I love you too much to see something bad happen to you."

Rick's heart swelled in seeing how attached Georgie was, and how in love she was with his daughter, and how clearly attached Judith had become to Georgie as well ever since the two had met just before Terminus, not even four months ago. The two most important girls in his life now fell easily into a mother-daughter bond that it made Rick happy, and he hoped that wherever Lori was, if there was an afterlife, that she was looking down on him and their children and approved of Georgie taking on more of the role of mother to his children, even though there were still plenty of other female figures in their lives sharing the responsibility.

"Not trying to be a Debbie Downer, but I used to wonder what Carl would look like when he grew up and what college he'd go to…what he'd want to do for a living. Nowadays, I look at him and Judith and I just wonder if they'll make it that far. Every day there's something new and I just get scared that the next day might not come for any of us."

"It will," Georgie muttered; understanding where he was coming from. "It has to. Law of averages, remember?" Off his nod, Georgie gestured toward the toilet. "Hand me the diaper, will ya?"

Stepping further into the bathroom, Rick grabbed the diaper and passed it to Georgie as she laid Judith down on the floor. The little girl immediately began to get antsy; turning on her side as she shoved her thumb into her mouth. Rick sat down on the edge of the tub and watched as Georgie managed to straighten Judith out and get the diaper on and then pulled the onesie one; the process of which drew a frustrated whimper out of the child when her head was forced through the neck hole of the onesie. Bathed and dressed for bed, Judith babbled incoherently as she reached for her daddy, who readily took her into his arms. Taking comfort there, Judith rested her head against his chest as he stood up with her while Georgie hung the damp towel onto a hook on the back of the bathroom door.

Placing one hand on her hip, Georgie reached the other out to brush gently against Judith's wispy, dark blonde hair. "I know how you feel, Judy," she remarked with a smile, eyeing Rick. "Daddy's got really nice arms to be in."

Situating his daughter in one arm, Rick smiled back and reached his other arm out to rest upon the back of Georgie's head so he could pull her toward him. When she took the hint and stepped forward, closing the gap between their bodies, he pressed his lips firstly down upon her forehead; just letting them linger there.

"My girls," he murmured.

At that very moment, Judith picked her head up and placed a hand on the side of Georgie's face with a soft, smacking sound. She just held it there and looked at Georgie with a shit-eating grin. The gesture was sweet and that little smile was plenty amusing. Turning her face, Georgie brought her hand away from Judith's head so she could use it to claim Judith's hand instead and press kisses into her palm.

"You want me to tuck her in or do you want to?" Georgie asked Rick.

"Why not both of us?"

Georgie smiled. "Okay."

* * *

After twenty minutes of being rocked in a rocking chair and read _Green Eggs and Ham_ by Dr. Seuss, Judith had begun to fully nod off to the point where Rick could lay her down in her crib without any more of a fuss being put up. Laying her down on her back, Rick watched the way Judith fought to keep her eyelids open and failed miserably at it. Georgie pulled her blanket up to mid-chest and gave a soothing tummy rub before stepping back and turning on the baby monitor so that she and Rick could keep an eye on her while she slept from their room. Both leaned down and kissed the child goodnight and once Judith had rolled onto her side, with her back to them, the pair made their escape out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind them.

Taking refuge in their room, Rick sank down almost immediately onto their bed and then dropped backward where he stared up at the ceiling.

"An end to another long day," Georgie muttered from over near the dresser where stood, reaching her hands up behind her and up under her shirt to unclasp her bra. Once undone, she pulled at the straps from within the short sleeves, freeing her arms of the damned contraption and pulling it off completely from underneath the front of her shirt. All the while she was unaware that Rick had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching her. When she turned around, tossing her bra to the floor, she stopped and shook her head with a grin when she finally realized she'd had an audience. "Enjoy the show?"

"Just waiting for the main act to take the stage."

"Oh yeah? What's the main act?"

"Topless dancer."

Georgie chuckled heartily as she sauntered over toward Rick and climbed up over him on the bed so that she was straddling his waist. His hands went to her hips without missing a beat, rubbing his thumbs gently upon her hip bones as he dropped his head back down onto the bed and just stared up at her.

"Dancing is better with a partner," she remarked.

"That's a very good point." A mischievous grin slowly spreading upon his lips, he casually braced an arm around her back and then swiveled them both around so that he was pinning her to the mattress underneath him. "Not only is it fun, but a great way to burn calories."

Georgie continued to laugh as she looked up at him, placing her hands on either side of his incredibly stubbly face he'd decided to go without shaving for a while now. She had a feeling he was opting not to because of how she had on more than one occasion admitted to him how much she had liked the beard he'd worn when they'd met, and during the time on the road before Alexandria when the beard had begun to get a bit unruly. Granted, he would likely never let it get that out of hand again, but it was possible he might grow it out again. After all, it would be great insulation for his face when the winter months rolled around.

"Have I ever told you just how breathtakingly handsome you are?" Georgie inquired. "I mean, seriously. I look at you and my brain just stops functioning for a few seconds until I remember to breathe."

Rick made a face akin to embarrassment; as if he found her words hard to believe. "I think you might've mentioned it once or twice."

"I need to say it more often, then." With a smile, Georgie snaked her fingers into his chocolate curls and lowered his face toward hers with little to no convincing. "So handsome, so sexy," she mumbled when his lips finally pressed against hers in a slow, sweet kiss.

"You are the company you keep," he retorted, burying his face into her shoulder and then turning it to kiss his way up her neck, just below her ear. "I keep forgetting to thank Carol for picking you up off the side of the road and bringing you to me." Lifting his head and kissing her jaw briefly, he smirked. "Best present ever."

Another chuckle escaped Georgie's lips as Rick dropped his head back down into her shoulder and the two of them just laid there for a few moments in silence; feeling each other's hearts beating through their chests, and listening to the sound of one another breathing.

"How many Saviors do you think we'll find at that compound tomorrow?" Georgie asked after a couple minutes of silence.

"All of them, I hope. Take 'em all out in one sitting. That would be ideal."

"Okay, but how many do you think there are, overall? What if they're not all there?"

"Jesus said, at Hilltop, they'd seen groups as large as twenty. If that's the largest they've seen, we can only hope that that's the most there really is."

"Do you really think that's all there is?"

"Honestly, no," Rick admitted.

"I wonder what Negan looks like, and if he'll be there."

Rick released a sigh. "Well, fingers crossed we kill him in the foray. We take down their leader and it'll be easier to snuff the rest of them."

"True," Georgie agreed. "If you died, I'm sure Alexandria would fall to ruin."

"I doubt that. There are plenty of capable hands here that could step up to the plate and fill my shoes. Probably better than I do, too."

"Nah. There's only one king."

Rick snickered. "I'm no king."

Georgie started to laugh at something in her head that went unsaid at the moment.

"What?" Rick pestered.

"Nothing. Well…I was just going to say that if you're no king, then how come only you can royally fuck me?" Turning her face, Georgie watched as he lifted his head and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Too cheesy?"

"Just a bit," he nodded.

"Would you have it any other way?"

Smiling, Rick pushed himself up a bit so he could better situate himself between her legs. "No, I wouldn't," he answered before kissing her and grinding slowing into her hips. "Now, weren't we talking about dancing?"

Replying with a simple grin and nod of her head, Georgie pushed him up away from her and proceeded to help him out of his T-shirt. Once she'd removed it, she tossed it somewhere to the floor and then allowed Rick to help her out of her own shirt before they both began to fumble with getting out of their own pants. Shifting around on the bed, they slipped under the covers, wrapping themselves up in each other's arms and focused solely on each other's bodies in that particular moment instead of focusing on the next day that hadn't even arrived yet.

* * *

"Describe it," Rick spoke.

He was standing around a makeshift particle board table in the basement of one of the townhouses, before the sun even rose for the day. Unable to sleep and wait for daybreak, Rick had gotten up to go find Jesus and Andy to wake them up to talk over the plan for attacking the Savior's compound. In the process of getting redressed he had woken Georgie, who insisted on coming with him. On their way out the house, they found Daryl awake on the porch, smoking a cigarette; also unable to sleep. Informed on what the couple was going to do, Daryl tagged along. Seeing a light on in the home Glenn and Maggie now lived in together, just the two of them, the trio knocked on their door and brought the younger couple along with them. Since Andy was the only one who had actually been to the Saviors' compound, there really was no need to wake Jesus, and instead, just went to get Andy, bringing him to where they were all gathered now.

With their only light source coming from a couple of workshop flood lamps, Andy hunched over the particle board with a blank sheet of paper and a marker to draw out a map of the Saviors' compound.

"Rectangular building, big satellites on it…"

"Any windows?"

"I don't remember any," Andy replied, continuing to draw. "I think they made it so there's only one way in."

"Guards outside?"

"Yeah. Two of them, at least."

"And you don''t know how many people they have?" Georgie asked.

"No. Uh, I mean, no, I saw a place where they stored food. It wasn't that big, so…"

"You've been inside?" Rick wondered.

"Yeah. They had us load in supplies one time."

Slapping down a fresh sheet of paper on top of the one Andy was already drawing on, Glenn asked, "What do you remember?"

As Andy began to draw out, to the best of his memory, the interior of the Saviors' compound, Maggie shifted her weight around. "And you didn't see any other rooms?"

"No, it's a big place," Andy replied. "This is the hallway I saw. There is more."

"And every time, they had you bring things into here?" Georgie asked, pointing to the section Andy had marked off as 'Pantry'.

"We brought a couple spears for them. Two of the Saviors took them down this hallway. Now, they must've done something with them because they didn't come back with them."

"Maybe a weapons locker, an armory," Georgie suggested with a shrug as Andy wrote down 'Armory?' on one of the hallways he'd drawn.

"Okay. We get in there, secure the armory, that's how we end it," Glenn remarked as Rick nodded in agreement.

"That's how Carol ended it here," Maggie added, referring to when the Wolves attacked.

Andy shook his head slightly. "But we don't know if they have an armory or where it even is."

"Well, we've got a lot of good guesses," Daryl piped up. "We've done more with less."

Rick nodded again. "We go in at night while they're sleeping."

"The guards won't be sleeping," Andy insisted. "Like I said, I think there's only one way in and there's no way to bust through that door without waking up the rest of them."

"We don't need to. They're going to open it for us, let us walk right in." Rick looked around at the others. "They want Gregory's head, right?" Off the silence in the room, he added, "We're gonna give it to them."

* * *

A few hours later, sometime past the noon hour, three vehicles from Alexandria crested along a country road, littered with a couple rusted, burned out abandoned vehicles. The RV had taken lead, with Rick at the wheel and Andy in the passenger seat to play navigator since he was the one familiar with the route they were taking. Behind the RV was a Toyota Land Cruiser, and behind that was the van that had transported Glenn, Tara, Nicholas, Aidan, Eugene and Noah to that warehouse where Aidan and Noah ended up dying. As all three vehicles came to a stop, Rick laid on the horn for a few moments before everyone began filing out onto the road with weapons at their sides.

"Aaron! Rosita! You start here," Rick called out after he climbed down from the rarely used driver's side door to the RV. As he walked toward the front of the caravan, he continued to call out the immediate plans for everyone involved. "We'll peel off every quarter mile; meet back here in a couple of hours. See what we got."

As everyone began breaking apart, pairing up and going off in different directions, Georgie sidled up beside Rick. One such surprising tag-along for this mission of sorts happened to be Father Gabriel, who had an assault rifle draped over his shoulder and had warranted an arched eyebrow from Georgie as she watched him walking toward her and Rick.

Rick gave the preacher a side glance, brandishing his hatchet in hand while he kept his Colt holstered. "There's no turning back now," he reminded Gabriel in a quiet voice.

"I could walk. Maybe run a little, maybe a lot," Gabriel remarked, holding Rick's eye in an unfaltering gaze. "I'm not going anywhere. I wanted to learn and you taught me for a reason."

"Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, huh?" Georgie quipped.

Gabriel didn't respond verbally, but a slight smirk donned his lips as he looked between the pair.

"Why are you still wearing that?" Rick questioned, referring to the preacher's uniform and clerical collar.

Gabriel shrugged a bit. "It's still who I was. I think. And it'll be harder for them to see me in the dark."

All three smiled and chuckled. Rick patted Gabriel on the shoulder as the latter headed off toward the woods, the same as some of the others. Rick and Georgie continued onward up the road, coming up to join Michonne.

The plan was to find a walker that resembled Gregory the most and decapitate it. The head Andy would bring to the Saviors' compound as a proof that Gregory had supposedly been killed at Negan's request in order for Andy to get his friend Craig back. It was also a way to get the guards to let their defenses down so the others could sneak up and take them down, and then sneak into the compound and begin the slaughter which was definitely unavoidable by this point.

Rick was right.

There was no turning back now.

"I'm not playing the third wheel here, am I?" Michonne asked as they walked in silence for a few moments.

"Huh? Why?" Georgie wondered.

"The two of you might've wanted to take a detour, make the most of some alone time…" An impish grin began dancing at the corners of Michonne's mouth, causing Rick to blanch slightly and Georgie to roll her eyes.

"We're the ones that joined you, not the other way around," Rick reminded, keeping his eyes forward. "If we'd wanted to go off together, we would've."

"Plus, we had some decent alone time last night," Georgie added.

The look Rick shot her was priceless. It was a mix of embarrassment, amusement and mock betrayal.

"Let's not air our dirty laundry, shall we?"

Michonne snickered. "Oh, please. The walls in that house aren't as thick as you might think. The two of you already air that dirty laundry more than you might realize."

Rick grimaced. "Fuck."

If Michonne could hear them at times from her room downstairs, his own son was sure to hear something more easily from just down the hall.

Seemingly understanding his dilemma, Michonne bit back the chuckle she wanted to emit as not to cause Rick any further embarrassment. "Don't worry; Carl's a much heavier sleeper than us adults. If it takes him forever to get up in the morning, there's no way a few groans and moans and oh yeses are gonna wake him."

"You're not making this easier, Michonne," Rick commented, still grimacing.

"I don't think she's trying to make it easier," Georgie remarked.

Michonne smiled and shook her head. "I'm not," she confirmed. Nodding at Rick, she added, "Watching that face of yours turn beet red is my entertainment for the day."

* * *

A couple hours later, only three walkers had been killed and brought back to the caravan that seemed like they could somewhat resemble Gregory. Finding ones that didn't look too decayed was what made it especially difficult. Once the heads had been severed from the bodies, Abraham and Gabriel carried the bodies off into the woods so they'd be out of the way. Everyone else was gathered back together, listening as Rick went over the steps to the task they would next be undertaking.

"We're gonna take a look around, try to get a feel for how many people are in there," Rick was saying. "We like how it looks, we go in. A couple of hours before dawn, the guards outside will be tired. Everyone inside will be sleeping. We don't like what we see, we head back, make a new plan. They don't know who we are. We'll keep Jesus in the shadows. This is how we eat. This is how we eat. We roll out at midnight."

While he'd been talking, Carol stood beside Georgie, her face pinched and looking uncertain about something. When Rick finished, he turned and made his way toward both women as the older of the two looked up at him with the question that had been burning on her lips.

"Why is Maggie here?"

"She's guarding the perimeter," Rick answered.

"Yeah, but _why_ is she _here_?"

"'Cause it's her choice."

"I want to stay out there with her."

"Well, this whole thing's a race to the armory. We need as many people inside as we can get."

"She shouldn't be out there _alone_. She shouldn't be _out here_ in the first place," Carol threw back, her voice rising the more insistent she became.

"Carol's right," Georgie agreed, catching Rick's eye. "Maggie's pregnant, and at risk enough as it is. Being out here alone isn't the right thing. If she's gonna be here, she needs someone with her." Georgie placed a hand on her hip and nodded. "Carol's a better shot than I am. I'll stay and guard with Maggie."

"No," Carol contradicted, turning to look at Georgie. "You go with Rick. You belong at his side. I'll stay with Maggie."

The couple both looked at Carol. While Georgie was more readily accepting of the older female's decision, Rick shook his head in defeat; clearly biting back the urge to argue against it.

"Okay," he caved, stalking off without another word.

"Good."

Georgie eyed Carol. "Everything alright?" she inquired. "Lately you've seemed…sad. Is it what we're about to do?"

Carol sighed and shrugged. "I've just…had a lot on my mind." She looked Georgie in the eye and held her gaze for a moment. "Right now I just want to make sure Maggie stays safe. Beyond that…I don't know."

"Carol, you're my best friend. If something's bothering you, I wanna know."

A small, rueful smile toyed at one corner of Carol's mouth. "Pot calling the kettle black. Where was this need to talk about worries and fears a month ago?" Immediately biting her lips together, Carol looked sheepishly down at the ground. "I'm sorry. That was harsh. I didn't mean—"

Georgie shrugged. "It's okay. We all deal with our baggage in different ways," she assured. "At least we aren't pushing each other away. I mean, if that's what you felt I was doing to you after I lost Tristan, I'm sorry. I know you bonded with him in the short time you knew him, and I'm sorry I wasn't mentally available to talk about with you…or anyone."

"It's okay. You're doing better than me," Carol remarked. "I still don't like talking about Sophia."

"Well, you just said her name, so that's something." Reaching up a hand, Georgie placed it down upon Carol's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "For what it's worth, I really do agree with you about Maggie being here, and that she shouldn't. What we'd give to have our children still here and she's putting her unborn child at risk for no good reason."

Carol didn't respond. She silently agreed with a simple nod of her head to the slight bitterness in Georgie's voice. Without needing to say anything else, both women parted; with Georgie walking over to where Rick had gone, to find him setting one of the three severed heads down onto the paved road.

"Was the middle head's nose crooked like that before?" she wondered.

Rick and Jesus both looked away from the head and over to her.

"We had to make a cosmetic alteration," Rick offered a sugarcoated explanation.

Georgie raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you punch a severed head in the nose?"

Rick shrugged and smirked a little. "Like I said: a cosmetic alteration."

* * *

There had been time to kill until it got dark and closer to midnight. Most lingered outside the vehicles, or in; resting or keeping guard around their temporary perimeter on the road. Knowing it would be an all-night adventure Maggie was ordered to take a nap in the back of the RV to which Glenn seconded, due to the fact that, as a pregnant woman, she needed to rest where she could. It was a suggestion brought up originally by Georgie, who had voiced it to Rick, and Carol had overheard, and then it escalated from there.

Before nightfall, Rick and Georgie sat on the hood of the Land Cruiser with their weapons draped over their laps. They were leaning back against the windshield, looking up at the slowly darkening sky, sharing an apple; one of many that had been brought with the group to snack on during their downtime.

"I wish we didn't have to do this," Georgie commented. "Not because I don't want to. I mean, no one _wants_ to. I'd just rather be home right now. I wish these Saviors didn't exist or pose any threats so we could just live our lives."

"Which is why we're doing this," Rick replied, turning his head and staring at her profile. He accepted the apple when she passed it to him took a bite, and wiped away excess juice rolling down from the corner of his mouth with the knuckle of his right index finger. "We do this now…before the Saviors and Negan have a chance to find us and do to us what they've done to the Hilltop and probably other places. We do this for us, so we can live as peacefully as we can."

Georgie took the apple back. "Fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity."

Rick swallowed back the last bit of apple he'd been chewing on and furrowed his brow as he looked skyward again. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"George Carlin."

Rick chuckled a little. "He was funny."

Turning her face, Georgie stared at Rick's profile this time. "I'm not gonna lie. I'm a little scared about tonight."

Sitting up, Rick shifted his weight and turned as he looked down at Georgie. He brought his right hand up to the top of her head, smoothing back her ginger locks while brushing his thumb against her forehead in a soothing gesture. "We'll be okay," he offered with a comforting smile.

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"You can't know."

Rick shrugged. "Maybe I have psychic powers you don't know about," he replied; a coy grin forcing her to smile back at him. Finding his own comfort in that smile of hers, Rick leaned forward and placed his lips upon hers, breathing in her breath as she opened her mouth up to him a little.

Someone banging once on the side of the Land Cruiser jolted the couple back to reality. They abruptly pulled apart and reached for their weapons on instinct before they realized it was only Abraham standing there on the passenger side.

"Check your libidos at the door and canoodle some other time," the burly redhead stated. "Sun's gone down. We're rolling out soon."

Abraham didn't wait for any sort of response. He walked on toward the van behind them as Rick and Georgie stared at each other and smirked shyly like two teenagers who'd just been caught with their pants around their ankles by a parent. As they both sat up straight, Rick slid down the hood of the Land Cruiser and dropped down to the pavement first, assisting Georgie as she followed suit. No one else seemed to care that the couple had been sharing an intimate moment in the open like that, probably because they were all so used to the pair being gradually more open with their relationship. Not that they'd been hiding it until now. It's just that they hadn't been prone to public displays of affection until after the walls had fallen in Alexandria, and after the month Georgie had spent in deep mourning for her son.

As the pair headed for the RV, Rick looked around them, at everyone drawing in closer to the caravan, and called out to them. "Alright, everyone, let's pack it in."

* * *

Several hours later, well after midnight, the caravan had made its way to the Saviors' compound, which was apparently an old communications building, complete with two, very large satellites. The RV and van were parked and hidden much further up the road and the others continued on by foot toward the compound while Andy drove alone up the road with the walker head in a sack. While Andy was pulling into the compound's parking lot, the rest of the group had already snuck up and approached the building from all sides and were already lying in wait by the time the three, red flood lights on the building were turned on; pointing down at the Land Cruiser that Andy had just rolled up in.

"_Stop right there! Announce yourself, asshole!"_ came a muffled shout from somewhere inside the compound.

"It's Andy, from Hilltop!" he called back, waving his hand out the driver's side window. "It's done!"

"_Step out!"_

Hidden by darkness, Rick and the others watched as Andy turned off the ignition and stepped carefully out of the Land Cruiser with one hand raised and the other holding the sack.

"_That it?"_

"Yeah!"

"_Bring it here, shit brain!"_

Slowly, Andy walked forward as two Saviors came out of the compound's main entrance, guns pointed as they met him halfway. The others continued to watch as Andy pulled the walker head out of the sack and one of the two Saviors inspected it. The three were conversing and it looked like Andy wanted to shit himself, but was keeping his composure very well, regardless. The Savior inspecting the head seemed content in believing it was Gregory; tossed it and then wiped his hand on Andy's chest while the other Savior began whistling the tune to the Birthday Song. As the first Savior disappeared back into the compound, and while the second Savior kept whistling, Daryl had already begun creeping around the front of the building and came up right behind the second Savior, grabbing him to hold his head in place as he slit his throat and then jamming the same blade through the top of the Savior's head as his body dropped.

On cue, the others came running out of hiding as quiet as possible as Abraham, Heath and Aaron lifted the second Savior up and carted his body out of sight and Andy tucked the Savior's gun into the back of his pants, under his jacket. As everyone scattered back into hiding, but closer to the building, Andy resumed his position just before the first Savior came back outside with a bound Craig, the resident from Hilltop being kept hostage.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," the first Savior remarked, moments before Michonne ran her katana through his chest from behind.

In a flurry of motion, Andy grabbed his friend, assuring him he was bringing home to Hilltop while Rick shoved his knife through the first Savior's skull and tossed his keys to Glenn. Andy hurried away with Craig, Tara and Gabriel to the Land Cruiser while everyone began slipping inside the building with their weapons at the ready.

Slowly, and with catlike stealth, Rick's group walked quietly into the main hallway, holding open doors where needed and splitting off to cover more ground.

"Check the doors. Find the arsenal," Rick whispered. "We take them out."

While everyone else seemed to break off into pairs, Rick remained part of a group made of up of Daryl, Georgie, Michonne and himself. At the end of the hall there was a door he approached. Letting his gun rest on its strap around his back, Rick removed his knife and carefully opened the door. The yellow lighting from the hall was all that filtered into the room to reveal a sleeping Savior. While the other three kept guard outside the room, Rick slipped inside and killed the Savior in his sleep with a simple stab to the skull. Glenn and Heath, who were just up the hall to the right slipped into another room to repeat the same process.

As each group or pairing continued on, killing the Saviors in their sleep, with the added goal of finding the arsenal, an alarm started to sound off.

Seemingly all at once, shit began to get crazy.

Saviors came hurrying out of wherever they were sleeping, guns blazing as they fired at Rick's group, who in turn fired back without hesitation. The sound of gunfire inside the building was deafening as bullets exploded from barrels and ricocheted off metallic walls. In the large stairwell of the rounded section of the compound, Rick fired up at three Saviors approached; peppering them with dozens of bullets with the goal of killing them and not carrying if any shot was a headshot to prevent them from reanimating later on.

"Go!" he shouted to Daryl, Georgie and Michonne, who skated past him once the coast was temporarily clear.

They foursome ran up another hallway together. As Rick stuck his head around corner, a Savior popped out of a room and began to fire at Rick's head. Georgie grabbed his arm and pulled him back in time. Rick snarled in the process; at the Savior, not at Georgie's assistance. Stepping back forward with his automatic rifle raised, Rick stepped into the other hallway and began to fire, taking out said Savior before leading the other three down that new route; each ducking into alcove after alcove to get out of the way of gunfire aimed for them while taking their own shots when they could.

Georgie could feel the adrenaline spiking in her that she knew the others were feeling, too. It was what allowed them to suppress any panic or fear and instead funnel it.

Daryl stormed down the hallway their team was in, with the others covering him. He blasted a few rounds of his gun into the door he was approaching and as a Savior on the other side of it stepped out, Daryl smashed the end of the rifle into the Savior's head. As the other man dropped to the ground, Daryl kept bashing his head in until he was dead.

Continuing on, one particular Savior seemed to come out of nowhere as it jumped out in front of Georgie and grabbed at her gun with one hand while trying to shove a knife anywhere into her. Michonne came up behind him and smashed the barrel of her rifle against the side of his head and Rick doubled back to fire a single shot into the Savior's head. As soon as he stepped in front of Georgie to make sure she was okay, two more Saviors stepped hurried out of a door behind them. Georgie lifted her rifle and fired a few shots into one Savior's chest and Daryl and Michonne went halfsies on taking out the second Savior. Rick spun around from that particular flurry of motion and protectively placed a hand to the side of Georgie's face. Stepping around him, Georgie pressed the end of her rifle's barrel against the first Savior's head. He was still alive and attempting to hoist up his gun but seemed to give up when he made peace with it being useless.

Without a second thought, Georgie pulled the trigger and blasted a significant hole into the Savior's head before turning and looking back at Rick who gave a nod of his head and a raise of his brow to silently inquire if she was okay. Nodding back, she responded with the same silence that she was.

The firefight continued for probably a half hour before Rick's group made their way to the same area, coming together again at the end of a docking bay with a large sliding, garage-like door. Pulling up and letting the door slide toward the ceiling, the group was immediately greeted by sunrise and the smell of morning dew on the grass.

They all stepped outside into the daylight, guns raised for any other possible attacks that might await, stepping passed vehicles belonging to the Saviors they'd just slaughtered.

Choosing the Nissan Dolphin RV that was parked against the building, Heath and Tara said their goodbyes to the group, as they already had a two-week supply run planned to go on before all of this. As the pair started up the RV, Rick and Georgie walked to the chain link fence and opened the gate to allow the duo to leave. Once they'd gone, the sun seemed to leave as well; disappearing behind some rain clouds that had been lingering in the sky since the day before. The rest that had remained stood around, getting their bearings after everything that had just transpired.

"What is it?" Rick asked of Michonne, seeing something was on her mind.

"Just—just want to know which one of them was Negan."

"What does it matter? Every one of those Saviors in there is dead," Georgie piped up.

"But was he one of them?" Michonne countered, bringing a heavy feeling of doubt down upon Rick and Georgie's shoulders.

Before either could respond to her, the sound of a motorcycle revving up snagged everyone's attention. Darting out the same docking bay they had all exited from a short while ago, a lone, surviving Savior made his attempt to escape on the suddenly all too familiar bike. When Daryl tore off after him on foot, angrily shouting 'sonofabitch' over the sound of the bike's engine, it became quite clear who the bike really belonged to.

Not only had Daryl lost his crossbow the day they'd tried leading the herd away from Alexandria, but he'd also lost his motorcycle; all to the same couple he hadn't come across since.

Rosita fired a couple of shots at the Savior, catching him somewhere near the shoulder. The impact of being shot sent him flying off the bike, which tumbled and skidded to a stop in the tall grass. The others began running over the Savior attempted to get to his feet and run away, but Daryl had sacked him like a quarterback and then climbed up over him to punch him a few times in the face.

"Where'd you get the bike?" Daryl demanded.

Rick stepped up and pulled back the hammer to his Colt Python before pointing it in the Savior's face.

"Do it!" the Savior shouted, daring Rick. "Like you did everyone else, right?"

Tilting his head as a steady, misting of rain began to fall, Rick contemplated whether or not to shoot the guy right there, or maybe take him hostage and question him a bit. Before he could make a decision, however, static from the walkie-talkie crackled beside the Savior's head.

"_Lower your gun, prick,"_ spoke an unfamiliar female voice over the radio.

Rick raised his eyes but made no move to do what the voice said.

"_You, with the Colt Python,"_ the voice pressed. _"All of you: lower your weapons right now."_

Everyone stood with their backs to one another as they face outward, guns raised as they looked around for where the voice might be coming from. Crouching down, Rick picked up the walkie-talkie and brought it up to his mouth, but he still maintained his gun's aim on the Savior on the ground.

"Come on out," Rick spoke, his eyes scanning the line of trees around the compound's property. Whoever was speaking to them could see them, which mean they had to be nearby, but hidden from view. "Let's talk."

"_We're not coming out, but we will talk."_

The group continued their scan of the area, suddenly feeling quite exposed. It was quite clear to them now that they hadn't killed all the Saviors.

"_We've got a Carol and a Maggie. I'm thinking that's something you want to chat about."_

Rick immediately winced in anger. Glenn seemed more visibly shaken as that was his wife out there being held captive by whoever was out there. Each one of their group felt their stomachs drop, really.

"_Now, we're gonna work this out right now, and it's going to go our way."_

Rick nodded to Daryl and Glenn. "Pick him up," he said to them, referring to the Savior they had. Bringing the walkie-talkie back to his mouth he, pressed the button to further communicate with the woman on the other end. "You can see we have one of yours. We'll trade."

"_I'm listening."_

"First I want to talk to Maggie and Carol; make sure they're alright."

There was a moment or two of radio silence, and then the walkie-talkie crackled to life again.

"_Rick, it's Carol. I'm—I'm fine, but—"_

The radio kicked out for a moment, and then—

"_Rick, it's Maggie. We're both okay. We'll figure thi—"_

Radio silence again, but it lasted only seconds.

"_You have your proof,"_ the unknown female voice informed. "Let's talk.

"This is the deal right here," Rick spoke. "Let 'em go; you can have your guy back and live."

"_Two for one: that's not much of a trade."_

"You don't have another choice or you would've done something about it already."

As the radio went silent once more, Rick and the others looked to each other.

"What do we do?" Glenn asked, worriedly. "What if they won't give them back?"

"They will," Rick insisted, looking over his shoulder at his friend. Even though he wasn't completely sure, he knew he had to verbally insist it for Glenn's sake. He didn't want the younger man falling apart. He needed him strong; to fight for the woman he loved.

"If it has to come down to an even trade, Carol will stay behind and let Maggie come back to us," Georgie muttered. She caught the look Daryl threw her, but she simply shrugged. "It's who she is. It's the choice she would make if she's forced to make it."

Hanging his head and biting angrily down on his lip, Daryl held tighter onto his gun as Rick and the others kept their eyes scanning the trees around them.

Tire of the radio silence, Rick spoke into the walkie-talkie again. "Look, I know you're talking it over. It's a fair trade. Just come out, we do this, we all walk away," he insisted. Of course, he couldn't let them walk away, whoever this woman and whatever people she was obviously with were. "Do we have a deal?"

Radio silence again was cut off by, _"I'll get back to you."_


	36. When Skies Are Grey

**Author's Note: Like with my other story, this summer my muse was on vacation, but now I'm back for good (again...or should be for the most part). This chapter I wrote in a day so I'm proud of myself for that. It encompasses the events that take place during "The Same Boat" and "Twice As Far" and a little somethin', somethin' in between...which I hope you found pleasing. I know I did and I wrote the damned thing, haha.**

As always, please _READ and REVIEW!_

xoxo - Holly

* * *

_"To me, most of life kind of lives in the grey and I don't just mean morally. I just mean kind of everything. If things were black and white it would be a lot clearer as to what to do all the time."_ — Sarah Paulson

* * *

As the group looked among themselves, panic rose in their chests at the idea of something happening to Maggie and Carol by those that had them. They all waited, and waited, and waited some more and still nothing more came over the walkie-talkie.

"We need to do something."

Rick turned around and looked over at Glenn as the rain continued to mist down over them all. Of their entire group that was present, the younger man had the most to fear and lose in all this. Maggie and Carol were beloved by everyone in their group, and back in Alexandria, but Maggie was Glenn's family; his wife and the mother of their unborn child. If Maggie died, Glenn would lose his entire immediate family in one go. Something like that would very likely break him. Georgie cast a glance Glenn's way as well, understanding his fear. Were it not for having Rick and his children in her life, despite the friend's she had with the group, she would not have come back from the loss of Tristan.

"Until we hear back from, we find them on our own." Rick decided. "Carol's crafty, and they're both smart. They'll be able to keep their heads above water and get through this. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Carol literally left bread crumbs for us to follow."

"They gotta have another base close by to hole up in," Michonne suggested. "They wouldn't have gone too far; otherwise they'd lose range on the two-way for communicating with us."

Rick sneered as he clipped the walkie-talkie to his utility belt and then grabbed the bald Savior by the back of his jacket. Yanking the other man toward him, he glowered and real close to his face. "You're gonna point us in the right direction, or I'm gonna make your death real nice and slow. Are we clear?"

"Fuck you, man."

With a simple glance over Daryl, the archer needed no other indication from Rick to show the Savior they weren't playing. Without warning, Daryl smacked the butt of his gun against the side of the Savior's face. It wasn't hard enough to break skin, but it definitely hurt like a bitch and drew blood from inside the mouth.

"Let's try this again." Rick yanked the Savior back so that he could dig his dirty fingers into the man's neck. Leaning toward the Savior's ear, he lowered his voice. "How far out from here is the place they would've taken our people, and which direction do we go?"

"Go ahead and kill me. I ain't tellin' you shit."

Rick gritted his teeth. "Maybe we won't kill you. Maybe we'll make it so that you're wishing for death so bad you'll give up the information without further hesitation." Shoving the Savior over to Daryl to deal with, Rick turned and looked around the Compound again, with an agitated sigh. Glenn, Michonne and Georgie were standing closest to him as he shook his head and lowered his voice for only them to hear. "Unfortunately, we might not have time on our side to torture any information out of him, but we got vehicles, we got guns and we got Daryl who's the best I know at tracking."

"They were somewhere in the woods and could see us, and if they had vehicles stashed somewhere, the only two roads they could travel on around here is the one we drove up on or there's a dirt road that runs along this property. We passed it last night. Pretty hidden if you're not paying attention," Aaron spoke, walking up behind them. He looked around at the faces suddenly turned and staring back at him. He shrugged. "Devil's in the details."

"Who's got a map?" Rick called out.

"I'll check the vehicles," Rosita offered, letting her weapon hang off her shoulder from its strap as she hurried over to the row of vehicles parked alongside the back of the Compound. Gabriel followed suit, offering to help in that task. Two hands were better than one, anyway. As she began searching through the first truck at one end, he did the same to the Suburban on the left. "Got it!" Rosita announced almost immediately. As she slid out of the driver's seat of the truck and shut the door behind her she pulled a map out and unfolded it over the trunk's hood.

"That was quick," Abraham remarked.

"Who doesn't keep a map in their glove compartment?" she asked rhetorically, with a glare of her eyes at him that suggested all was not well with the pair.

As the others approached, Rick took front and center as some gathered 'round the truck's hood, while the rest took point. Scanning the map to determine where on it they were, he dragged his finger around the worn and crinkled paper and then prodded a spot. "Alright, this is where we are, and this," he moved his finger along a thinner line that indicated a smaller road, "must be the dirt road Aaron saw last night. That puts it," Rick turned around to determine where they were currently all positioned and where the main road was in reference to them, and then pointed in the direction of straight ahead of them, which was currently blocked by the building, "There."

"I could've told you that," Aaron quipped.

"Anyway," Rick ignored the man's comment, "if they had any vehicles along this road, the only area of woods it makes sense for them to have been able to see us is there." Turning again, he pointed to the woods directly behind the entire Compound.

"Okay, so where does that dirt road come out to? What points of interest is somewhere those assholes might take Carol and Maggie?" Georgie inquired, leaning to look over Michonne's shoulder at the map.

"The road leads here," Michonne pointed a normal road on the map. "It goes either left or right, so whichever direction they would've gone is a flip of a coin by that point."

"That's assuming they've even made it to any of their vehicles yet. They could still be in those woods right now."

"So, we'll split into two groups. Daryl will take lead and track through the woods and determine which way they really went. For all we know, maybe they didn't take this road after all. Maybe they've walked all through the woods. The map shows there's a residence or something here," Rick pinpointed as he stepped back toward the map again. "The rest that don't go with Daryl will gather up the weapons and any other supplies at this Compound. Bring our vehicles back here, load everything up."

Further discussion as to who was specifically going and who was staying to load up was had. In the end, it was decided that Abraham, Michonne and Aaron were staying behind at the Compound while the others would go off after Maggie and Carol. Gabriel was one of the ones who elected to go as well; needing to further prove his worth to Rick that he could do the hard stuff without being asked, as if he was still trying to atone for his singular betrayal of the group to Deanna. They would also be bringing the Savior with them. But first, Daryl wanted to track the woods for a while and determine a definite path that was taken by Carol and Maggie's captors.

Only Rick had gone to accompany him, both men disappearing outside the fence and into the woods for the better part of an hour while the others helped gather up the supplies while Gabriel and Georgie guarded the Savior. The entire time, Glenn seemed unable to focus on anything other than worrying about Maggie. Michonne told him to sit it out; that the rest of them had a handle on loading up. Abraham had gone off and returned with the RV. The other vehicles had been left where they'd parked them during the night and would retrieve them later.

When Rick and Daryl returned, having taken the map with them, they announced they'd found tracks leading to the dirt road as suspected, but a ways up.

"They walked through those woods a while," Rick informed. "We found footprints. We think Carol and Maggie left us a trail because those prints were too obvious and we doubt those assholes would be sloppy as to knowingly leave any clues to their direction behind."

"We came out onto the road, muddy tire tracks turned left, but we can't be sure where they went after that." Stalking up to the Savior, Daryl grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and punched him in the face. "Where the fuck did your people go?"

As the Savior reeled back from the blow to his face, he spit fresh blood his mouth at Daryl's shirt and then coughed. "Fuck…you…"

"That was me asking nicely just then," Daryl growled. "Fucking try me."

"You're gonna tell us," Rick stated simply, scratching at his nose. "'Cause if you don't, you die. You're alive because you're of use to us, so it'll work in your favor to comply. Unless, of course, you_ do_ wanna die…"

Looking around at each person glaring back at him, the Savior's resolve seemed to slowly break away, but not without some further resistance in a last ditch attempt to hold out. "There's a slaughterhouse," he blurted, regretting saying anything the second the words slipped past his lips. He dropped his head and scowled.

"Where exactly?"

"Route 55," the Savior begrudgingly answered. "Less than a mile north of I-66."

Unfolding the map again, Rick spread opened it up and spread it out upon the nearest vehicle's hood. "There," he remarked, pointing to a spot on the map. "There's I-66, and there's…" His voice trailed as his finger did the same, moving barely an inch upward from one line to another. "Route 55, also known as John Marshall Highway." Rick looked smugly back at the Savior and then dictated to the others, "Put him in the backseat of the Suburban. Gabriel and Glenn stay with him. If he tries anything, shoot him between the eyes."

Rick wiped his nose, the overcast weather seeming to bother his sinuses. Stepping away from the others, he unclipped the walkie-talkie from his utility belt and faced the woods fenced off from the Compound. Pressing the push-to-talk button, he hesitated for a moment and then brought the device to his lips.

"Have you thought about it?" he questioned over the radio. "Talk to me."

Static hissed for a moment or two before a reply came.

"_You weren't listening. I said _I'd_ contact _you_,"_ remarked the woman he'd spoken to earlier. It almost sounded as if there was a tone of amusement to her voice.

Rick smirked. "Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry about that?"

"_What do _you_ think?"_ Her voice was breaking up, determining the fact that she and her friends were already far enough away with Maggie and Carol; very likely already at this slaughterhouse which, according to the map, was about three miles away.

"I think we're gonna make the trade, so tell me where."

"_We haven't agreed to that."_

"You will."

"_You know what? I'm not so sure. We'd be taking most of the risk, not getting much in the way of a reward."_

Rick looked over his shoulder, back at his group who were awaiting him and his next move. "The other option won't work out for you."

"_We'll take our chances."_

As the radio went silent, and despite Rick's pride in knowing his group knew where to get Maggie and Carol back from, he still frowned at the woman's confidence. Clipping the walkie-talkie back to his belt, he returned back over toward the others.

"Well?" Georgie asked.

"She doesn't seem too willing to make a trade just yet," Rick replied. "Too bad she doesn't have a choice in the matter."

* * *

"_Asshole. You there?"_

Sitting in the passenger seat of the Suburban, Rick looked around at everyone else inside the vehicle; Daryl driving, Rosita and Georgie seated in the second row with their backs to the doors so they could keep extra watch on the Savior seated in the middle of the third row, sandwiched between a Glenn and Gabriel. The Savior's mouth was gagged and his hands were duct taped in front of him so they couldn't try breaking free with his hands behind his back where Glenn and Gabriel couldn't see. Then again, the guns they had pointed at his head most of the time were a great deterrent.

Looking forward at where the vehicle was headed, Rick brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth to reply after the woman's voice had come across with next to no static interference.

"I'm here," he answered back.

"_We've thought about it. We want to make the trade."_

"That's good."

"_There's a large field with a sign that says 'God is dead'…about two miles down I-66. Good visibility in all directions."_

"We'll meet you there." Rick looked over at Daryl and nodded, just as the archer gently turned a corner onto a road that, according to their map, brought them closer to where this slaughterhouse was. "Ten minutes?"

"_Ten minutes."_

"What do you think?" Daryl asked as Rick set the walkie-talkie down.

"There was barely any static on the radio. They'll know we're close. Or at least we play this, assuming they know." He sat back a little more comfortably and tapped his fingers rhythmically along the armrest on the passenger door. "If they have the sense to realize we're closer to them than the location she just gave me, they'll be doing one of two things: leaving Carol and Maggie behind so they can make a run for it, or they'll be preparing for a fight. I'm figuring the latter. In which case, maybe we should've had Abraham, Michonne and Aaron come with us."

"We needed them to get the supplies back to Alexandria," Rosita muttered. "And we need them back home anyway. Makes no sense for all our muscle to be gone too long."

Georgie, seated behind Daryl, had a good view of Rick's profile as she watched him nodding at Rosita's words. Leaning forward, she braced her forearms between both Rick and Daryl's seats. Reaching her right hand to Rick's shoulder, she tapped her fingers against it and smirked when he turned to look at her. "We're fine," she murmured as he brought his own right hand up across his chest to grab onto hers. "We're gonna be fine."

"Yeah, I think so, too."

* * *

The slaughterhouse wasn't exactly easy to find. Not that it was a blink and you'll miss it situation, but it was situated far back off the road, somewhat obscured by a smallish office building in front of it and overgrown tree coverage. Daryl brought the Suburban to a stop at the base of the property's unkempt driveway and turned off the ignition before everyone began to climb out with their weapons at the ready. Glenn was last out, using his left hand to drag the Savior out by the back his jacket. Rick stepped around and cut the Savior's hands temporarily free of his duct tape binding, only to re-bind them with fresh duct tape behind his back instead of in front of him this time.

Glenn took lead up toward the slaughterhouse with a nod to Rick as he walked past. Rosita was right there beside Glenn as they all began moving, followed by Gabriel and Daryl, and lastly Rick leading the Savior forward with Georgie bringing up the rear.

As they approached, there were some muffled gunshots being fired from inside the building, and black smoke was billowing out, indicating a fire somewhere on an upper level.

Picking up their pace, Glenn led them all as they wove around to the side of the building where a metal, rolling door was. Just before he could reach for it to slide it open, the sound of banging from inside gave him pause. The banging lasted but a moment and sounded like someone was attempting to open it up.

As the door rolled open with an echoing clang, Glenn and Rosita raised their weapons, ready to shoot, only to discover Maggie standing there with Carol immediately behind her; both with some minor blood splatter on their faces and clothes.

"Maggie," Glenn muttered with relief, lowering his gun.

Daryl darted inside the second he saw Carol and went straight to her. "You okay? We got your trail. You start a fire?"

Carol nodded, looking a little dazed and distraught. "Yeah."

"Hey, you good?" he asked, lifting her chin with his hand.

"No," she answered honestly, shaking her head.

Wasting no time, Daryl pulled her into a comforting hug as everyone else began to pile inside. "Come here."

"They're dead. They're all dead; the ones that took us. They're all dead." Maggie's green eyes flickered from Glenn, toward Rick and then back to Glenn again. Seeing her husband there and having his hands on her allowed her to lower her guard and just let the fear she'd been feeling and whatever she and Carol had been subjected to to finally hit her.

"Hey, are you okay?" Glenn asked with great concern.

"I just…I can't anymore."

"It's okay."

As Glenn pulled his wife in for a hug, Georgie holstered her gun and stepped over to Carol so she could take over Daryl's place in hugging her. "I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered with her arms tight around Carol's shoulders. Leaning back; Georgie brought her hands to either side of Carol's face to make sure Carol was looking at her as she looked back with concern. "We're gonna get you home. Can't lose my best friend."

Carol smirked, but she was still clearly a bit out of it.

"Your friends are dead," Rick spoke to the Savior, who seemed to have been hit with the realization he was finally all alone in his situation. "No one's coming for ya. So you might as well talk."

"Let him burn," Daryl grunted.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time: how'd you get the bike?"

"We found it," The Savior mumbled, barely getting the words out.

"Like hell you did," Daryl bit out, his voice sounding extra rough.

Raising his own voice somewhat, the Savior repeated, "We found it."

Rick looked over at Daryl, then back. He leaned closer toward the Savior and sneered. "Was Negan in that building last night or was he here?"

Slowly turning his head, the Savior began to smirk. "Both," he remarked, turning to look fully at Rick with a more devil-may-care attitude suddenly appearing. "_I'm_ Negan, _shithead_. There's a whole world of fun that we can talk about, so let's have a chat."

Stepping back, Rick seemed to get that look in his eyes where he was a thousand percent done with all the bullshit. "I'm sorry it had to come to this," he said as he quickly lifted his Colt and fired a single shot into the Savior's forehead without blinking an eye.

Georgie saw Carol jump at the sound, and she figured that was all it was; the loud gunshot echoing off the metal walls startling her. She thought nothing more on it, and she thought nothing more on Rick's actions. She, herself, had long since stopped caring about the lives taken that belonged to bad people, or people who threatened her life or the lives of people she cared about. When push came to shove, and it became an "us or them" situation, she would always choose the "us" and she refused to dwell on it. It was a necessary evil and one she could live with.

All that mattered now was that Maggie and Carol were safe and they could bring them home.

* * *

The drive back to Alexandria had been relatively silent. The seating arrangement was altered to accommodate Maggie and Carol; allowing Maggie to sit in the third row between Glenn and Gabriel where the Savior had been, while Carol took up the space between Georgie and Rosita in the second row. A time like that would've been nice to have music play over the radio, but such was the world they lived in now, and it wasn't like there were any CDs or cassette tapes to pop in anyway.

Rick had already checked.

As their approached to Alexandria neared its end, Georgie looked down and noticed Carol's hand was bleeding.

"Were you bit?" she whispered, concern plaguing her voice and bringing out frown line across her forehead.

Carol looked down as well; turning over her hand and opening it up to reveal her bloodied palm and the silver cross to the rosary she'd been gripping too hard. "No, I wasn't bit," she answered simply. She didn't elaborate. She didn't look back at Georgie to give a small smile to assure her everything was fine and dandy. Carol simply closed her hand back up and retracted it slightly up into the sleeve of her bulky coat and brought her gaze forward toward the road ahead of them.

Once they reached Alexandria's walls and the gate was rolled open for them, Daryl brought the Suburban around to the front of the townhouses to park. Everyone climbed out slowly; tired and thankful to have just made it back in one piece.

Glenn and Maggie wasted no time in taking off to the home they now shared in one of the townhouses; their own separate space away from everyone else where they could raise their own family soon. Maggie had turned down the suggestion of going to see Denise at the infirmary; insisting she hadn't been injured. Carol, on Daryl's insistence, _did_ go see Denise when he, too, realized her hand had been cut because of that rosary. Fortunately, it wasn't anything major; merely a superficial wound that only required a good cleaning, antiseptic ointment and a Band-Aid. It would heal on its own in a matter of days.

While Daryl continued to stick by Carol's side even after the infirmary, going as far as to walk her home where he insisted she take a hot shower and get something to eat, Rick parted from the group. He went to meet up with Abraham and Michonne who had been waiting for him at the armory since they returned earlier, and were cataloging all the new weapons they'd acquired from the Saviors' compound while Olivia was busying herself with taking inventory of the food supplies they'd also swiped as well. Olivia, bless her heart, asked no questions about the details of how everything had been gained. The entire town knew what was going to go down, or at least expected as much, and they'd agreed to let it happen by not speaking up against Rick two evenings prior during the meeting at the church.

If they could continue to live quietly and safely within Alexandria's walls and get more supplies out of the deal, the residents sans Rick's group were more than happy to bury their heads in the sand or look the other way. Sure they'd stepped up the bat more and more when it was required of them, and even when not asked, in the two months, but old habits have always died hard.

"How'd everything go?" Michonne asked, not asking for specifics unless Rick chose to offer them up first.

"We didn't have to do anything," he replied, running his hand over a box of ammunition and then lifting it up to inspect what caliber it was. Setting the box back down, he looked between the pair. "Our last communication with that woman was ten or so minutes before we got to the slaughterhouse and by the time we arrived, a fire was blazing somewhere upstairs in the building and Maggie and Carol were already making their way out."

"They get hurt at all?"

"Carol cut her hand, I guess, but that was after the fact. She was walking slow. I think she might've gotten hit or something, but she ain't saying anything about it. All I know is they're alive and they're home." Rick leaned back against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest. "They killed the Saviors that took them. Every one of them and they both seemed shaken. Carol, more than normal. I don't think I've ever seen her so zoned out after something like that."

"It gets the best of us all from time to time," Michonne remarked.

"Just gotta nut up and deal with it," Abraham mumbled. "Shit happens. Enough good people have died for no damned reason, so why feel bad about the bad ones?"

"Killing the living isn't always easy."

Rick glanced down at the floor. "It shouldn't get easier, but it does. You just gotta…detach. It's not who we are, it's what we gotta do. We're not doing it because we want to, but because we have to…because we _need_ to. It's about self-preservation. Sometimes, like last night, it's just…preemptive."

"You don't need to explain it to me," Abraham quipped. As Rick made the move to leave then, just as he was literally opening the door to head out, Abraham cleared his throat to get Rick's attention. "Just a heads up, Rick," he began as Rick turned and looked back.

"Yeah?"

"Make sure Carl stays out of the attic in your house, will ya?"

Rick fully stopped and eyed Abraham squarely as he raised a curious eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"I brought back a bunch of pot plants from that compound and hooked up some lights to keep 'em from dying."

"I'm sorry—what?" Rick blinked a few times. "Why not at your house?"

"My living situation is up in the air at the moment and Michonne said it was okay as long as I told you about it."

Rick turned his gaze from Abraham to Michonne. "Really?"

Michonne smirked and shrugged. "It's only plants right now, and it's no worse than booze. Plus, I doubt we'll have them for long. I've got a bet going with him that every last plant will be dead within a month."

"I'll have you know I successfully maintained a pot plant in my closet when I was in high school thanks to my mother never daring to set foot in my room," Abraham retorted.

Rick shook his head as he began to turn back toward the door. "Why's that? Did she work a lot?"

"No, it smelled like shit. I had a hearty appetite even then and my colon was a regular fart cannon."

Despite his best efforts to remain straight-faced, Rick let out a decent chuckle. He then chose that moment to exit, but not before calling over his shoulder, "Just get it into your own attic as soon as you figure out your new living situation."

"Aye, aye, Captain Greybeard."

Rick closed the door behind him and stopped on the first step before going over in his head what Abraham had just called him; evoking the memory of being called that in the RV the morning they first arrived to Alexandria. Shaking his head and continuing down the stairs, he turned up the road and made his way home. He decided he'd wait until the next morning to check in on Glenn and Maggie, and see how they were doing after the events of the last twelve hours. At the moment, all he wanted was to get a hot shower, eat something and see his children.

As he walked along the road, the sky above grew darker and not from further rain; just from the later hour. A slight chill picked up in the air, causing him to zip up the front of his coat a little higher and shove his hands into his coat pockets. Out of habit, he let his eyes drift over to the blue house on the corner and, every time he did so, the memory of crashing through the picture window with Jake played over in his head, along with the memory of leaving that house amidst the herd of walkers that had gotten in, and how it soon led to Tristan's death and Carl losing his eye. The blue house held more bad memories than good in their short time of living in Alexandria and he wished they could just burn it down. Before the herd had come into the community, Rick and Georgie had been planning on making it their home with their children, but now that plan had been shelved for good. If they wanted to have more space to themselves, he was sure Carol, Daryl and Michonne wouldn't mind giving up their residence in the main house and moving into the blue one instead. They didn't hold the same bad memories and ties to the blue house that Rick and Georgie did. He was sure if he sat down and asked them, they would respect his request and move two houses down without a fuss. After all, it wouldn't be like they were going far. Mere feet, really.

But, he was in no rush to kick anyone out just yet. He and Georgie and his kids were still content with how full the house was and, honestly it was nice to come back home to the sounds of a full house after a long, arduous day; which he usually had either in from maintaining order in and the safety of Alexandria, or outside of it like the last, well…several days away.

As Rick made his final approach toward the main house, he found the lights were on downstairs and on the front porch sat Georgie with Judith on her lap.

"All the guns inventoried?" she asked, bouncing Judith on her knee.

"Almost," he replied, ascending the steps and making his way over to his girls. Briefly he leaned down and grabbed onto his daughter's foot and gave it a playful squeeze, which garnered a bright smile out of her. "D'you know about Abe's plants in the attic?"

"What plants?"

"He brought pot plants back today. Apparently he has a green thumb we don't know about."

Georgie snickered. "I find that unlikely."

Bracing his hands along the balustrade, Rick leaned against the porch railing. "You should get in on the bet Michonne has going with him, then. She's betting him they'll all be dead within the month. Hell, _I_ might get in on that bet."

Smiling, Georgie kissed the back of Judith's head and stood up with her. "Want her?"

"Yeah," Rick replied, readily accepting his daughter into his arms.

"I'm gonna grab a shower in a few minutes if you wanna join me," she informed. "It's best to conserve water where we can, after all."

As she stepped away and began to head inside the house, Rick called out, "I'll be up in a minute." Shifting his daughter around on his hip, he lifted his free hand up and booped her nose with his pointer finger and then brought her close to snuggle her against him before placing a kiss upon her forehead. He just enjoyed the smell of her. Babies and toddlers always had that amazing, natural smell that seemed to make everything better. "Heya, honey. Sorry I've been gone a lot lately. Daddy's just had some important things to do the last couple of days to keep everyone safe here." After another kiss to her forehead, he mumbled against her soft, wispy hair, "I hope you were good for Carl. Remind me to thank him for being such an amazing kid and an even more amazing big brother."

After a few more minutes, he brought Judith into the house and greeted his son who was watching _Elf_ on the TV.

"Hey Carl."

The teen turned completely around because, if he didn't, from where his father was standing on the side where his left eye was missing, he didn't have that peripheral vision anymore, so he couldn't see his father. "Hey dad. How'd everything go?"

"It went as well as to be expected; though, not without the usual hiccups."

"Abraham said Carol and Maggie got kidnapped, but they're okay, right?"

"Physically, yeah, but they seemed a bit shaken by the ordeal," he replied to his son. "They just need a few days to rest and relax. Maggie can't be going out like that anymore in her condition, and I think she finally understands it now, too. Carol, I think…she just hold it all in and I think all the pretending she's been doing around here since we got here, given everything she's done and has had to do is taking its toll. She just seemed stressed. But, again, I think she just needs some time to step down from it all and just relax a while. She does so much around here to begin with. Even _I_ take a break once in a while. Carol's always—"

"—Like the Energizer bunny. Going, going, going…"

Rick smirked. "Yeah, exactly." Setting Judith down on the floor and watching as she wandered over to some of her toys scattered along the base of one of the living room chairs, Rick shifted his weight and hooked his thumbs on his front pants pockets as he eyed his son more thoroughly. "Speaking of doing so much around here, I want you to know I'm real grateful of how you keep stepping up to the plate to take care of your sister for me, even after everything you've been through with your injury."

Carl shrugged awkwardly; just like his father when it came to hearing a compliment. "She's my family, and I might have only one eye, but I still have two legs and two hands and a fully functioning brain. I'd give up my other eye to keep her safe."

"I'd stand in the way of that bullet before I let anything like that happen to you again."

"I know." Carl looked down, itching just under the bandage covering his vacant eye socket. "Do you think you killed all the Saviors? Like, do you think there's any more out there?"

Rick sighed. "I'd like to think so, but we really don't know. I don't even know if we killed Negan. The last one I shot today said he was, but I'm not sure I believed him."

"Why not?"

"It could've been a loyalty thing. Going down with the ship as it sank."

"I'm not following."

"If he wasn't Negan, and just saying he was, it could be because he was trying to throw us off the trail and make us think we got the right guy while the real one is still out there. Kinda like a decoy. You know what I mean?"

Carl nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. I guess I'd do the same as that guy," the teen remarked. "If someone came here wanting to kill you, I'd say I was you to keep whoever it was away from you."

"Don't say that, Carl. And I don't ever want you doing anything like that, either, understand me?" Rick almost blanched at the thought of his son taking sacrificing himself for him. Not after everything that had happened two months ago. "If something like that ever happened, and someone wanted me, you tell them where I went or you tell them to wait for me. Don't be me. Be yourself." Walking up to his Carl, he placed a hand on the side of the boy's head and kissed the top of it. "I love you, Carl."

"I love you, too, dad." As Rick stepped back, Carl raised his head. "I was gonna give Judith something to eat soon and then get her ready for bed. You wanna watch a movie or play some cards afterward?"

Rick's shoulders slumped. "I'd love nothing more than to watch a movie or play cards with you, Carl, but I can't do it tonight. I haven't slept a wink in almost two days. I'm smell, I'm hungry and I'm exhausted. I gotta make some rounds tomorrow morning, check on some things; but afterward I'll cash in that rain check. Whatever you want to do, you got me for."

"Anything?" Carl questioned with a devilish smile.

Rick shook his head and snickered. "Within reason."

"I'll hold you to that, then."

Stepping out of the living room, Rick unzipped his coat and hung it up on the hook near the front door. "Thank you again for taking care of Judith for me," he remarked, pausing and looking back at his children.

"No prob, Bob."

"I'm just gonna say goodnight to you now. I might not make it back down here to get something to eat after my shower. I'll probably be too tired, and crash the second I get into bed."

"Okay, then. 'Night, dad." Carl stood up and swooped his baby sister into his arms; turning her around and making her wave at their father. "Say goodnight," he urged her as if she actually understood.

"Blahba dada da."

Rick chuckled. "Right back at ya, Judy." He blew her a kiss and found amusement in how she mimicked the gesture; smacking her lips against the palm of her hand and then blowing a raspberry in the air."

His heart swelling with the love for his children, he smiled all the way up the stairs to the second floor and disappeared into his and Georgie's bedroom. She wasn't in there, though the lamp on her side of the bed was on, suggesting she'd been in the room recently. With the bedroom door open, he could hear the muffled sound of water running from the upstairs bathroom, so he knew Georgie had already started washing up without him.

Not wanting to dally any longer, he undid his utility belt and his regular belt, removing them both and setting them down across on the chair in the corner, but making sure to set his Colt down upon his bedside table for easy access during the night. Just in case he had to literally jump out of bed to defend himself like when Jesus wandered in days ago and scared the shit out of him. Lifting his shirt off over his head, Rick tossed it to the floor, not caring where exactly, and wandered back out of the bedroom. He knocked twice on the bathroom door and twisted the knob to find the door was unlocked.

"It's me," he announced, slipping inside and then locking the door behind him. "You started without me," he added, unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. Looking down, he saw her pile of discarded clothes so he kicked his pants over to them.

"Only the showering part," Georgie replied.

Approaching the glass, shower door, Rick pulled it open and Georgie stepped aside to give him room to stand under the spray. He immediately felt like a hundred bucks. The steam entered his pores and the tolerably hot water pelted his bare skin, making all the aches and pains go away. Thankful for such a roomy shower stall, Georgie was able to go about shaving her legs in one corner while Rick began to lather shampoo onto his scalp and wash away the grease and dirt, and just the last thirty-six hours in general.

"You're starting to stink perty," Georgie quipped as she stood up for a moment before leaning back down to work on her other leg.

Rick smirked as he turned around and tipped his head back, allowing the water to rinse his hair out. "I might need a trim again soon," he commented. "My hair's starting to get longer. It's curling too much at the base of my neck."

"I like it longer. More to grab onto."

"You want me looking like Grizzly Adams again?" Running a hand down his face, Rick turned and looked at her as he reached for the body wash next.

"That _is_ how I first knew you, after all," she replied. "That's the physical version of you I became attracted to first."

"So basically you're saying I'm not as good-looking when I'm clean-shaven with shorter hair?"

"Exactly. You look like a turd." Georgie stood up and was giggling at her own joke. Leaning forward, she stood on tiptoe and kissed the tip of his nose before setting her razor aside and taking the body wash from him. "A handsome turd, though."

"Better than just a regular turd, I guess. I'll take what I can get." Spitting out some water that entered his mouth when he was speaking, he studied Georgie's face and smile down at her before properly kissing her back. "Sorry I was late to the shower."

"S'okay," she shrugged, lathering the body wash onto a blue bath loofah and began to run it his shoulders and arms for him. "I figured you were playing catch up with Carl."

"I was," he confirmed, watching how she slipped behind him so she could scrub between his shoulder blades and down his back to his ass. When she gave a playful squeeze to both cheeks, it drew the expected reaction out of him. As he found himself growing hard under her innocent ministrations, Rick reached back to grab her hand that was holding the loofah and brought it around his waist to his front, urging it downward so she got the hint.

With a knowing smirk, Georgie pressed her slick, bare chest against his back. Gripping his left hip with her left hand to hold him in place, she let her right hand wash his southern baubles and bits with the loofah without allowing him any release from the gesture. After a few moments, she stepped back and rinsed the loofah and then set it aside the same she did with her razor. Stepping back around to stand in front of him, his cock rubbed against her stomach as she drew closer to him. With little urging needed, she got Rick to take a step back to give her the room she needed as she sank down to her knees before him and took a gentle hold of him. Taking the head of his cock into her mouth, she gripped the base more firmly with her right hand, turning her head in a corkscrew motion that immediately elicited such a guttural moan from his throat. Dropping his hands onto her head and snaking his fingers within her wet, ginger locks, Rick bit down on his bottom lip as he watched him take him in a little more at a time while fondling his balls at the same time.

It didn't take long for him to climax either; especially not with the way she dragged her tongue around her entire length. When she swallowed every drop he spilled down her throat, Rick let out the most satiated sigh ever and took another step back to lean against the cool, wet tile of the shower. He dick might've gone limp at the moment thanks to that beautiful orgasm she'd given him, but he wasn't about to _not_ return the favor.

As Georgie stood up, Rick maneuvered her to lean her back against the perpendicular shower wall. Due to his aching knees, it was more of a struggle for him to get down onto them on the shower stall floor, but once he was there, he wasted no time in hoisting one her legs up over his shoulder. Leaning his face forward, he pressed his mouth to her mound, letting his tongue drag gingerly between her soft folds which were already warm and slick for him; and not because of the water. He already knew from her having told him once before that she got stimulated over the act of orally pleasing him, and not even because she was expecting him to do the same for her. She didn't expect it in return every time she did it. More often than not he did it anyway, because he loved her and he wanted to. That and he enjoyed the taste of her.

Suctioning his lips around her clit, he sucked hard on it before pushing two fingers into her pulsing center, pumping them in and out. As she began to squirm from her oncoming orgasm, Rick was surprised when she pushed his face away from her and slid her leg down from his shoulder.

"What?" he asked as he looked up at her. "Leg cramp?"

"No, I want to finish this in our room is all."

Rick was truly baffled by how she could just stop him like that. Her willpower was something to behold, because he sure as shit couldn't stop her when she was pleasuring him, just to change locations. Not unless they got interrupted by a third party, and by then the mood was usually killed and he was miserably blue-balled.

Turning off the water, Georgie helped him up off his knees and ushered him out of the shower stall as she followed after. Having thought ahead, she had brought a robe with her in place of the dirty clothes she had changed out of, whereas Rick was stuck with simply throwing a towel around his waist. They both left their clothes behind in the bathroom and hurried out of there like a couple of teenagers up to no good. And in the same vein of thinking, it almost felt like they were misbehaving given the massacre they were responsible for at the compound barely eighteen hours ago.

Perhaps that was even more of a reason to carry on as they were. What better way to celebrate being alive than by having sex? Even more so when it was with the person you loved. It made it all the more better.

Disappearing quickly into their room, and shutting the door behind them, Georgie took lead and pushed Rick backward onto the bed. She didn't even wait for him to lay normally along the bed. He fell back across the mattress and watched with eager eyes as she opened up her robe and climbed up onto the bed over him. While she hovered momentarily above his waist, Rick undid the towel and pulled it open, revealing his awoken member, which was ready for round two.

Placing one hand upon his chest, Georgie used the other to guide herself down onto him; sliding languidly all the way down to take him all the way in. As she rested both her hands upon his chest, she hunched forward slightly and clenched her inner walls around him, inciting a grunt of pleasure from him. Slowly, she moved up his length before slowly coming back down. Rick's hands sought out her hips, gripping before deciding to bring them up higher to her chest. As she began to bounce up and down, her began to roll her nipples between his fingers which brought forth a happy coo from her lips

As Rick bucked his hips upward to meet hers, he moved one of his hands away from her breasts; reaching one around to the small of her back as he urged her to lean down a bit more. Taking the hint, Georgie did just that, which allowed him to lean his face upward to take one nipple into his mouth and suckle on it. She braced herself in that position by planting her hands on either side of his head and he brought the hand that was on the small of her back around her hip and down between them to flick at her clit with his thumb.

In no time at all, her orgasm forced her body to tense and her body to shudder like she'd been struck by lightning, all while her inner walls fluttered around him.

As she began to slump forward, spent from her orgasm, at least for now, Rick wrapped his arms around her back and rolled her around so that he was on top. He began to thrust up into her so he could finish, in the midst of the last spasms of her orgasm occasionally shaking her. When he came, Rick dropped down on top of her with a similar shudder. He took a moment to gather himself before sliding out of her and rolling over to lay beside her; both staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm so tired. You officially wore me out."

"Awesome," Georgie smiled. Raising her right hand, she held it up toward him.

Turning to see what she was doing, Rick smirked. Lifting his left hand, he brought it over to hers and high fived her. "Good job. Great form. I really enjoyed how sank that hole in one."

Georgie chuckled heartily. "Nice follow through. You're like a magician with that nine iron of yours."

Rolling onto his side, Rick leaned his head forward so he could nuzzle his face against her neck, the stubble causing her to flinch, but in a good way. In response, he began to kiss his way up her neck to her jaw instead before he reached across to her shoulder furthest from him and turned her toward him so that he could kiss her properly on the lips.

Raising a hand to touch her fingertips gingerly along the side of his face, and up to his temple, Georgie looked him in the eye and smiled with deep contentment. "You make me happy," she muttered quietly, brushing her thumb along his cheekbone.

"When skies are grey," he countered, referencing the 'You Are My Sunshine'.

Georgie chuckled again, but this time quieter and more inhibited. "I'm tired."

"Me, too."

Forcing herself to get up, Georgie sauntered slowly away from the bed and pulled open a drawer to their dresser, removing a pair of underwear for herself to put on and a pair of boxers which she tossed in Rick's direction. "In case another Jesus moment happens," she gave as an explanation when he raised an eyebrow at her in regard to why she threw them at him.

When he nodded in understanding, they both quietly slipped into their undergarments while Georgie also removed one of his T-shirts to pull over her head and wear as a pajama top. Pulling her still damp locks out from under the head hole, Georgie returned back to the bed and plopped down on her side before reaching over to the lamp and finally turning it off.

The pair of them fell into their quiet routine of getting comfortable in bed so they could fall asleep; pushing off the heavier duvet and only using the simple, white bedsheet to cover up with. They both rolled onto their sides, legs almost immediately finding a comfortable way of intertwining together as Rick became the big spoon to her little spoon. The cherry on top was Rick draping his arm over her waist and Georgie grabbing his hand and pulling it toward her chest to rest just over her heart.

They closed their eyes, listening to each other's breath grow steadier.

"Love you," Rick muttered against her shoulder.

"Love you, too."

* * *

The following week moved slow, and it was welcomed.

Life quieted back down within Alexandria and everyone fell back into their normal routines. There were no outside threats that came knocking at their doors—living or dead. There were no major injuries anyone was recovering from.

There was animosity anywhere, other than the dirty looks Rosita was giving Abraham, but that was due to the fact that they had apparently broken up the same day they had headed out to the Savior's compound. And now it seemed Abraham was cozying up with Sasha, which put the latter in the line of fire where Rosita's eye daggers were concerned. However, Rosita seemed to also be cozying up to Spencer, who seemed to follow her around like a puppy dog. That coupling could be chalked up mostly to him being her rebound, and him displacing his feelings of grief over losing his entire family onto Rosita the second she showed him any form of affection.

That, specifically, was the professional opinion of Denise, who shared it with Georgie one morning over coffee in the infirmary.

Georgie wasn't big on gossip, especially among her group, which she still thought of in a separate capacity from the original Alexandrian residents. Denise didn't seem like the gossiping type either, but it was obvious she had mostly interacted with Tara, and now that Tara was gone on her two-week supply run with Heath, Denise didn't really interact with much of anyone else except for Rosita. Talking about Rosita's personal business directly to her was just something Denise wouldn't and couldn't bring herself to do, hence the reason she was able to unload on Georgie when she came to the infirmary. The only reason Georgie was there to begin with was to thank Denise for giving her extra Tylenol for the headache she'd had the day before, only for Denise to excitably start rattling on about minor things like how nice the weather was lately and how rainy days were only good for when you had a good book you wanted to curl up into bed with. After an offer of coffee, Denise got more chatty, likely due to the caffeine pulsing through her bloodstream, and that was when she began to blurt out her thoughts on Rosita and Spencer, as well as Abraham and Sasha, and how—as guilty as it made her feel to talk about it—it was closest thing she had to the soap operas she used to watch as a guilty pleasure.

"I was all about _One Life to Live_. Natalie Buchanan was my favorite character, mostly because she was just this gorgeous redhead and I'm a boob girl."

Georgie, a redhead, raised her eyebrow at Denise. "Oh?"

Denise giggled nervously. "Sorry, when I drink too much coffee I can't shut up, but you'd never know that normally because I am for the most part an introvert, but you're pretty easy to talk to, and well, I haven't had much to do lately and with Tara gone…I'm just kinda…kinda like how I was when Jake was alive and the doctor here." Denise winced and sat up straight at the infirmary's kitchen island where she was sitting beside Georgie. "Sorry, sorry. I know bringing his name up isn't cool given what he did to you and I'm just gonna," Denise mimicked zipping her lips, "shut up."

"It's okay. He has no power over me, even in death," Georgie assured, taking a sip of her coffee. "I was an idiot, confused by my loyalty to my son and all those feelings of how my marriage had once been with Jake conflicting about how my feelings for him had become. I made the wrong decision to stay in that house with Jake, for the wrong reasons. I feel like I forgot who I really was and I became this different person. I told myself no man would ever treat me the way he did in that short amount of time. I even threatened him years ago he would never treat me in such a way. But that was back when he was a good guy. The new world changed him and it changed how I reacted around him. He terrified me and when people get terrified, it's hard to make a run for it." She sat up straight and flexed her shoulders backward as she briefly recalled the fear she'd felt looking into Jake's eyes and how devoid of emotion they had become when he looked at her. "The best way I can explain it is when a child has a nightmare, and they're too scared to jump out of bed to tell their parents. They know their mom and dad will comfort them and tell them there's nothing to be afraid of and prove there are no monsters under the bed or in the closet, but that kid can't seem to move. They're paralyzed by fear so all they do is pull the covers over their head and just hope it goes away."

"I should cross off my name on my degree and you can be the resident psychiatrist here," Denise commented teasingly, but then grew serious. "That's a very astute description. I never thought about it like that."

"I've had time to formulate my reasoning over the last couple months."

"I guess so."

Looking into her now empty coffee cup, Georgie turned and smile at Denise as she stood up. "Well, I should probably get going. I have some laundry I need to do, and I promised Maggie I'd come by around lunch time with Judith."

"Oh, yeah, of course. I didn't mean to keep you," Denise apologized, mimicking Georgie by hopping down from her stool.

"No, it's okay. It was nice to chat."

"Well, I'm always here if you wanna swing by again. It doesn't have to be for a medical emergency, either. And it doesn't have to be an everyday thing. Or even tomorrow. No pressure." Denise winced and pushed her glasses up. "Sorry. Rattling. Too much caffeine. I need to cut myself off after the second cup and switch to water. But…yeah…"

She followed Georgie to the front door and smiled awkwardly.

Just walking by on the road before them at that moment was Rick, bowlegged as usual, with his hands shoved into his coat pockets. Georgie got his attention by wolf-whistling at him and then winking at him. As he stopped and turned to see who was whistling at him, he shook his head and snickered.

"Right back atcha," he called over to her. Averting his gaze, he greeted Denise with a nod and a polite smile. "Morning, Denise."

"Morning, Rick."

As he remained standing there, sensing Georgie was leaving the infirmary and not first arriving, he waited for her to join him on the road while squinting from the sunlight overhead.

"Thanks again for the coffee," Georgie remarked. "And I think I'll hold you to that offer of another coffee klatch. How's the day after tomorrow?"

Denise smiled and nodded. "Yeah, totally."

"Alright. I'll see you around." With a small, polite wave, Georgie stepped off the small porch and sauntered up beside Rick.

As the two of them began their walk up the road together, he turned to look at her. "What were you in there for? More Tylenol?"

Georgie snickered. "No, I came by to thank her for it, though and ended up staying for coffee and gossip."

Rick made a face. "I didn't peg Denise for the gossiping type."

"She isn't. I just think she's lonely with Tara gone, and with no injuries or health scares in the community lately, she's bored as well. No one seems to visit her otherwise." Lifting her arm, she linked it through Rick's and leaned closer to him. "I did learn from her that not only is Abraham and Sasha now a couple, but Rosita is rebounding with Spencer."

"Like sands in the hourglass, these are the _Days of our Lives_…"

"Funny you should say that, because Denise mentioned soap operas and how her favorite character was a redhead with big tits."

"Mine, too," he teased.

Georgie rolled her eyes. "My tits aren't big by any means."

"They fit in my hands just fine. I'd say they were big enough."

Giving him a playful shove, Georgie looked up at Rick. "Where were you this morning."

"Walking the perimeter and making my morning rounds. Nothing unusual, completely uneventful," he answered. "I just came from our makeshift holding cell in the basement of that one townhouse where I was put for the night, and where Morgan's been the last week."

"What's he been up to besides the tai chi or whatever it is he does with his stick?"

"I think tai chi is what it is." Rick shook his head. "He built a jail cell. Bricks and mortar, bars on the window, and a barred door. The whole nine yards."

Georgie made a face. "Really? Why?"

"That's what I asked him. He said so it would give me more options." Emitting a sigh, Rick frowned. "I know he still means well, but it's still a bit annoying when he does shit like that. I almost wanted to lock him in that cell and tell him to enjoy it. I know that makes me an asshole."

Georgie squeezed his arm with hers. "Yeah, but you're _my_ asshole."

"Yeah," he smacked his lips. "Love you, too."

* * *

Three and a half days later, the coffee date Georgie was supposed to have with Denise never happened. Denise had apologized and asked to postpone it until the next day because she was going on a small run for more meds with Rosita and Daryl. Abraham and Eugene had also gone out for the day for who knows what reason. Georgie didn't exactly keep tabs on everyone the way Rick did when anyone left the safety of Alexandria's walls. Not that she asked him, either. She figured if it was something she needed to know, he'd tell her.

Later that afternoon, as she sat on the living room floor with Judith, building a pyramid with the red solo cups she loved so much and letting her giggle as she knocked them all down, Rick came home looking gravely solemn.

Georgie sat up straighter and furrowed her brow at him. "What's wrong?"

Quietly, he walked into the living room and sank down into one of the large chairs while staring intermittently between the floor and Judith. "Denise is dead."

Georgie's heart sank. "What?"

"The Savior that stole Daryl's crossbow shot her through the head with one of the bolts meant for Daryl. They had to leave her body behind, though, because Eugene during a firefight with the Saviors. They carried him back to their truck and just brought him back. Rosita's taking care of him right now. He should be fine, but Daryl took off again to go retrieve Denise's body a few minutes ago."

"Oh…okay," Georgie muttered sadly.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because she was becoming your friend," Rick replied, looking up at her. "And now's she gone. And because we didn't get all the Saviors, which means that threat is still out there and…I don't know what to do anymore."

Pushing up to her feet, Georgie left Judith to play contentedly in the center of the floor as she walked over to Rick and sank down on the armrest of the chair he sat in. Dragging her fingers through his hair, pushing a stray lock off his forehead, she sighed. "It's not your fault today happened the way it did. You didn't pulled the trigger on that crossbow. You couldn't have known more Saviors would find our people and kill one of us."

"But the possibility existed."

"And how were you to prevent it from happening without knowing where anymore of them have been hiding? We don't know how many there are or how spread out they are and, sure, that's terrifying. But we took out the threats we _did_ know of. You can't control what other people do no more than you can control the rain from rolling in from time to time." Georgie leaned her head forward and pressed her forehead to his. "We're only human, Rick. We make mistakes, we act out fear, we worry, and we fear. We all have our faults. But this isn't one of those moments. This wasn't Daryl's fault for losing his crossbow to that Savior, this wasn't your fault for not somehow knowing the location and killing every last Savior that exists. The Saviors are bad people who kill innocent lives for power, because they're bullies."

"We kill people."

"Bad people, when it's necessary. Not because we want to, but because we need to. We do it to keep our family, our people safe, so we can live our lives, and now that we know there are definitely more Saviors out there, we'll continue to do what we need to do for as long as we have to." Guiding his face toward hers so he would look back at her, she held his gaze. "And I'll be by your side every time, helping you protect everything we have."

Lifting his arms up, Rick placed his hands on her hips and pulled her down from the armrest and down onto his lap. Pulling her legs up toward her chest, Georgie practically curled up into a ball as she leaned her head down onto his shoulder.

"I should let Gabriel know we're gonna need him for another funeral," Rick muttered.

"Okay, but first let's just sit here like this for a little longer and watch Judith play."

"Sounds ideal."

As if sensing they were talking about her, Judith turned around and looked at the pair.

She smiled at them, revealing more of her teeth coming in.

Despite how happy she made them feel when they looked at her, neither could shake the dark cloud moving over their heads.

"Who's gonna tell Tara when she gets home?" Georgie wondered aloud.

"She's always been closest to Rosita. I suppose Rosita will, especially since Rosita was there when it happened," Rick replied. "She'd be able to answer any questions Tara had about how it went down, and be able to comfort her."

Both of them sighed simultaneously; the sadness of another loss in their community turning their blue skies grey.

* * *

Denise was buried in a shallow grave, much like everyone else buried in the small cemetery in Alexandria. Daryl had brought her body back and dug the grave, with Carol assisting him with tossing the dirt back in. Not many from within Alexandria came 'round for the funeral and instead chose to grieve quietly in their homes instead of coming out to pay their respects to their community's only doctor.

Gabriel said a few nice words, recited a fitting bible verse and everyone who had actually showed up retreated back to their homes; grief heavy on their hearts.


	37. Don't Go Where I Can't Follow

**Author's Note: OMG! That sneak peak for the season 7 premiere, am I right?! Negan needs to take his damn hands of my baby! Despite feeling like I was getting ripped apart inside yesterday, I was able to bang this chapter out last night and this afternoon. It encompasses all of "East", if you're curious. Enjoy! And, as always, please _R&amp;R! _**

_**xoxo - Holly**_

* * *

_"__Don't wait to say goodbye_

_You're running out of time_

_Whatever you believe_

_It's easy to see"_

— Aloe Blacc

* * *

It was the start of another day in Alexandria; another morning being able to wake up from a restful sleep. Some sunlight was shining in through Rick and Georgie's bedroom, with the occasional cloud crossing over the sun to give some reprieve from the brightness.

Not that either was paying much attention to the sunlight.

Georgie was lying on her back, holding their bed sheet up over her chest while her head of ginger curls splayed out around her on her pillow. Her eyes closed shut, her brow knitted in concentration and her teeth biting her bottom lip, Georgie clenched the sheet tightly in her hands as she tried her damnedest to keep quiet. Underneath the sheet, also oblivious to the sunlight, was Rick. From Georgie's point of view, were her eyes open, all she would see was the outline of her legs bent at the knees and Rick's head between them.

When a lightning flash of fire spread out from the base of her spine, Georgie's eyes popped open and her voice became caught in her throat for half a moment while her body shuddered and her breath shook. With the beating of her heart slowly returning to a normal pace, Georgie lifted her head and looked down as Rick crawled up her body. She felt his kisses all over her thighs and her stomach before his head appeared out from underneath the sheet. He smiled up at her, wiping his stubbly chin with one hand before leaning back down to kiss her chest, licking circles around and biting gently onto her taut nipples. Slithering further up her body, Rick buried his face into her neck and suckled upon her skin while she brought her hands up to run her fingers languidly through the soft curls at the back of his head as she urged him to look up at her. When he took the hint and locked eyes with her, they were both smiling impishly at each other.

With a content sigh, Rick finally brought his lips to hers; kissing her for a few lovely moments before rolling off her and slumping back onto his side of the bed.

"You wake me up like that more often and I might never get out of this bed," Georgie muttered lazily, closing her eyes again as she let the afterglow of her orgasm continue to wash over her.

"My tongue might go permanently numb."

"Well, we can't have that."

Rick smirked. Leaning back, he glanced over his shoulder at the baby monitor to see that Judith was still asleep in her playard. "Judith isn't even up yet," he informed. Rolling back over, he draped an arm over Georgie's waist and pulled her body closer to his. "We got time for other things, if you're so inclined."

Rolling onto her side as well so she could face Rick, Georgie leaned in and brushed her nose against his before giving him a chaste kiss. "Time is a valuable commodity, isn't it?" Holding his gaze, she brought her hand up to push some errant curls from off his temple and forehead. When leaned contentedly into the gesture, Georgie smiled. "We have all the time in the world, and yet it's fleeting. We have to make the most of it because we never know when it's gonna be up."

Rick frowned. "It's too early for being deep and poetic." He leaned forward and buried his face into her neck again, kissing his way up to her jaw, then to her lips once more. "Less talking, more fucking, I say."

"Do you now?"

"I do."

The sound of Judith suddenly beginning to jabber over the monitor caused them both to fall silent. Lifting their heads, they looked toward the small screen and sighed.

"It's okay," Rick insisted, turning back to Georgie and crawling back over her body. "She's talking to herself, not crying. That's a good thing." Bracing his hands on either side of her chest, he positioned himself between her legs while grinning down at her. "We still got plenty of that valuable time."

"I like how you're trying to convince me of something I'm already willing to do," Georgie chuckled, resting her hands onto his shoulders.

"You really that easy?" he teased, pressing himself against her entrance.

"For you?" Georgie nodded. "Fuck yeah."

Rick smiled. Biting his lip, he thrust into her; enjoying the sharp intake of breath she made.

* * *

Within the hour, Rick and Georgie had dragged themselves out of bed and got dressed for the day. Georgie, having taken over primary Judith duty given that she had openly been Rick's significant other for a while now and that Carol—the usual babysitter—had been distant these days, had already changed Judith's diaper, and seen to getting her fed. Since no one else in the house had seemed to have made coffee, despite everyone having already left the house for the day, Rick took it upon himself to make enough for at least him and Georgie to enjoy a cup or two to help them wake up a bit more.

Georgie was sitting at the kitchen island, nursing her cup of coffee, with her gaze upon the toddler playing with a few wooden building blocks on the floor at her feet when a knock came to the front door. Rick, setting down his own cup, stepped around his daughter and sauntered over to greet whoever it was.

Once he pulled the door open, Rick found Tobin on the other side, looking somewhat downcast as he held a piece of paper folded up in his hands. He didn't say anything as he quietly entered in and passed the paper to Rick without a word. Sensing something was up, Rick's good mood began to dissipate as he took the note and opened it up. Curiosity killing the cat within her, Georgie stood up with one arm wrapped around her front to prop up her opposite elbow as she stepped over toward both men while still holding her coffee cup. When she got close enough, she looked curiously over Rick's shoulder to read along with him; knowing that if it was personal he would have turned himself and the note away from her prying eyes, but he didn't. In fact, he turned toward her so she could see the note better.

_I wish it didn't have to end. Not this way. It was never my intention to hurt you, but it's how it has to be. We have so much here — people, food, medicine, walls, everything we need to live. But what we have other people want, too — and that will never change. If we survive this threat and it's not over, another one will be back to take its place, to take what we have. I love you all here. I do. And I'd have to kill for you. And I can't. I won't. Rick sent me away and I wasn't ever gonna come back, but everything happened and I wound up staying. But I can't anymore. I can't love anyone because I can't kill for anyone. So I'm going, like I always should have. Don't come after me, please._

Georgie took a step back and felt like she'd just been punched in the chest. Clenching his jaw, Rick looked up from the note, up at Tobin, and then turned to eye Georgie, who seemed just as thrown for a loop as he was.

They'd both known Carol hadn't been very happy as of late, but this is not something they would've ever expected her to do. It was the love they knew she had for their group that they believed kept her with them.

"That's bullshit," Georgie muttered, finally breaking the silence, unfolding the arm from across her chest and prodding the note harshly with her finger. Tears stung her eyes at the thought of the woman who had become her best friend just abandoning ship—on abandoning her. "How can she just leave like that?"

Rick looked back down at the note and then folded it back up. "Because she knew we'd talk her out of it." Gripping the note firmly in his hand, Rick stepped over to the coat rack on the wall and grabbed his jacket. Without another word, he stormed out of the house with Tobin hot on his trails; leaving Georgie behind with Judith.

When the door shut behind them, Georgie let out a huff and turned around to the little girl who seemed confused by the abrupt departure of her father. Frowning, Georgie walked over to the kitchen island where she sat her coffee cup down and then crouched down to hoist Judith onto her hip.

"C'mon, Judy. We're gonna go catch up with Daddy."

Before she could dart out the door after Rick and Tobin, she forgot she didn't have her gun or knife on her. It had become a thing that they all carried at least one weapon on their person at all times when not in the safety of their homes. Remembering she'd left hers upstairs, Georgie scaled the steps with Judith still on her hip and soon slipped into her and Rick's bedroom. She set Judith down on the bed long enough to attach her leg holster and place her gun in it while tucking her father's knife into the knife sheath on the other side. It was a new piece of equipment that Georgie had acquired that Rick had given to her from the stash they'd taken from the Saviors' compound. Squared away with her weaponry, Georgie lifted the wiggly Judith, who thought some big game was being played, up into her arms again.

Smiling at the girl, despite her worry and anger over Carol, Georgie kissed Judith's nose and held her close as the two of them made their way back downstairs and quickly out the front door. Rick and Tobin were already out of sight, so she wasn't one hundred percent sure where they'd gone. Once she reached the intersection, she saw movement out the corner of her eye to the right. Standing around in front of the entrance gate was Rick with Tobin, Morgan, Abraham and Sasha and they all seemed to be tense and talking. Before she could take a step in either direction, Georgie spotted Carl coming up the street from the house behind her with his head tilted to the side like his father, but looking as if he was trying to figure something out. She'd completely forgotten that he had still been asleep up in his room.

"Something wrong?" he called out before her was close enough to her. "I heard the front door opening and closing a few times, and someone rushing up and down the stairs."

"Carol's gone. She left behind a note with Tobin," Georgie explained briefly. "I need you to take your sister for me. I think your dad's gonna go after her. He took his jacket and he had that look in his eye."

Accepting his sister into his arms, Carl nodded. "Okay." Then, "Are you gonna go with him?"

"I have to. Carol's the reason I'm even here. I would've died out there on that road if she hadn't driven by me. I never would've gotten here to find out Tristan was alive."

As Georgie turned and began to walk away without another word, Carl called to her. "Georgie."

She stopped and looked over her shoulder at the teen. "Yeah?"

"Be careful," he spoke, his lone eye imploring her. "Make sure you and my dad come home to us."

Georgie smiled slightly and nodded. "We will." Blowing both children a kiss, she took off at a brisk jog down the road to catch up to the group at the gate who were discussing something as Morgan turned and came walking up the road toward her, heading for one of the cars parked along the wall.

"Where are you going?" Rick called to Morgan.

"I'm gonna go find her!"

Reaching Morgan before he even had the driver's side door open, she placed a hand on the top of the vehicle and cut in front of him. "I'm coming with you," she pointedly declared.

Morgan simply nodded back at her.

"Wait!" Rick shouted over at them. As Morgan climbed into the driver's seat and Georgie was making her way around to the passenger's side, Rick informed the others, "Tell Carl I'll be back soon. No one else leaves. Everyone stays, ready for a fight."

Rushing over to the car, Rick eyed Georgie and gestured for her to get in the backseat. He was riding shotgun. Georgie didn't much care as long as he didn't argue with her going. He wouldn't have, though. Rick understood what Carol meant to Georgie. What he didn't understand was Morgan's need to go after Carol. The two didn't exactly share any of the same ideals or agree on much of anything, to be honest.

Not a second after they were all seated, Morgan had started the car up and immediately drove it forward. The gate was opened quickly for them and the trio were soon outside the walls, leaving Alexandria behind them.

"Carl knows where we're going," Georgie said, leaning forward between both front seats. She had placed a hand on Rick's left shoulder and was looking at him. "He's got Judith with him. I told him what's going on."

Rick nodded and gave her a side glance. "Thank you."

Georgie responded by nodding back at him and squeezing his shoulder. Despite their tense moods, she found some respite in the way Rick reached his right hand up across his chest to cover her hand and just hold it there for a few moments. It all went back to how he found comfort in the gesture; how her holding his hand when he felt like the ground under his feet was crumbling. The touch of her hand focused him. It centered him.

The drive was a silent one for a couple miles until Morgan eventually spoke up.

"You didn't have to come," he muttered softly.

Georgie knitted her brow together and eyed the back of Morgan's head. "Why wouldn't we come? She's our friend."

"We have to try," Rick interrupted. "Even if it's a longshot; even if it's dangerous. The tire tracks pointed east. We go east."

"The Saviors' compound that you and the group…that you went to: that was west," Morgan commented as Rick turned to look at him. "Seems like she went east."

Turning away and glancing out his window, Rick gave a shake of his head. "You don't even know Carol. Not like us."

"Oh, I got to." Morgan looked briefly at Rick. "A little."

"Why are you doing this?" Georgie asked from the backseat, keeping her eyes on the back of Morgan's head.

Glancing up at her reflection in the mirror, Morgan locked eyes with her for a moment before returning his gaze toward the road ahead of them. "What I believe—I'm not right. There _is_ no right. There's just the wrong that doesn't pull you down."

After a moment of silence within the car, Rick replied. "It hasn't pulled _me_ down."

"I think it will. 'Cause I know you."

"You _think_ you know," Georgie remarked, narrowing her gaze. Leaning forward, she gripped the backs of both Morgan's and Rick's seats. "Wrong or right, any of us…it only pulls you don't if you let it. And we won't let it. 'Cause that's who we are. If you know Rick, if you truly knew any of us, you'd know _that_."

Reaching forward, Rick grabbed the rearview mirror and angled it more toward himself so he could see into the backseat. Georgie sat back, pushing Morgan's staff out of the way when it bumped into her leg when the car followed a considerable curve in the road. When she glanced up, she found Rick's eyes staring back at her from the mirror. He winked at her and then the subtle tapping of his right hand between the side of his seat and the door panel. Following his gaze to the right, she leaned forward again and discreetly linked her fingers with his.

They sat like that, holding each other's hand while the car ride continued in silence for another fifteen minutes, give or take. Morgan had said nothing after Georgie gave her two cents and she figured that if Rick had any issue with how she'd spoken, he'd have given her a polite "down girl" comment. No such comment came, which meant one of two things. Either he agreed with her sentiment and his silence was confirmation, or he just didn't feel like adding his own two cents either way.

When the road reached a slight incline, Morgan announced, "There."

"I see it," Rick replied.

Georgie released her hand from his and scooted closer between both seats again so she could see better out of the windshield. Up the road was a truck parked diagonally across the street with a body strewn over the hood and another body laid out on the ground. When Morgan brought their car to a stop, they could see there and one on the ground. When all three of them got out of the car, they could see the body of the man on the ground was still breathing.

"That's her car," Rick deduced, looking over at the car a couple of yards further up the road. The giveaway was the wooden spikes sticking out of it that they used back outside of Alexandria to impale, and therefore trap, approaching walkers.

"D'you see her?" Georgie asked.

Both men tried peering around the truck to the car without stepping too far away from their own car just yet.

"No," Morgan answered, having removed his staff from the backseat.

Taking out his knife, Rick sauntered up toward the man on the ground while Morgan and Georgie kept lookout for any walkers, unfriendly types or, most importantly, Carol. Crouching down at the man's side, Rick grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him up slightly to get his attention.

"Where is she?" Rick growled out his demand while the man was choking on his own blood.

Taking mere seconds to determine the man would not be able to provide him with an answer, Rick shoved his knife into the man's eye socket to put him out of his misery. And it wasn't a mercy kill, either. Rick was angry because he could tell the man had something to do with whatever happened at this place with Carol. Also, there'd be one more walker added to the world if Rick had just left the man there to die naturally.

Wiping his blade on the man's shirt, Rick stood back up and looked between Georgie and Morgan before joining them as they moved forward around the truck; sparing it a few careful glances just in case a body popped out of nowhere. Beside the truck was a sharpened stick, much like a spear and it looked oddly familiar. Rick knelt down on one knee and picked it up, giving it a onceover.

"The Saviors were getting weapons from the Hilltop's blacksmith. These men were Saviors," Rick gathered.

Dropping the spear down, Rick stood back up again and walked alongside Georgie; the two of them following slowly behind Morgan as all three approached a recently reanimated walker feasting on a third fallen Savior. The likelihood of the walker being a fourth Savior was pretty high.

Morgan stepped up to it when it looked up, snarling, at him. With a swift whack of his staff, the walker received a fatal blow to the head that was strong enough to snap its neck as well. Despite their problems seeing eye to eye with Morgan on certain important things, there was no denying he could do damage with that glorified stick of his when he wanted to.

"There's blood here," Morgan announced, pushing aside the door to Carol's car. "She could've been hit."

"I'm proud of her," Rick said, looking toward the field before them on the side of the road.

"How's that?"

"She took four of them down. That woman, she's a force of nature."

Georgie smirked, agreeing with the sentiment as she recalled how she'd assisted Carol with blowing up that huge propane tank at Terminus.

"She left because she can't anymore," Morgan remarked. "That's what her letter said."

Rick looked at him. "She could because she had to. Sometimes you have to." He kept his eyes on Morgan even as he began walking back toward the truck and bent down to grab a gun underneath it; checking it for rounds.

"There's more blood opposite these men that leads into the field," Morgan stated. "It's a trail. Could be Carol's. She could still be alive. She's not here."

"Most of their guns are gone. She might've taken them."

"Those, too."

Georgie frowned, looking up either side of the road. "Or she could've died here, even if she isn't here." To think that Carol was dead and walking around as the _undead_ wasn't something Georgie necessarily wanted to think about, but it was foolish to not consider that option.

Rick caught her eye and nodded. Georgie got the sense he might've been thinking the same thing, and that he didn't like the thought of it either.

Morgan gestured toward the field with his staff. "Trail goes this way."

Tucking the gun he'd acquired into the back of his pants, Rick began to follow Morgan as he led the way through the tall grass. Georgie was right behind both men, with her knife unsheathed to use at a moment's notice.

"They were close to Alexandria. There's even more of them," Rick commented, unhappily. "We didn't end it."

"No," Morgan muttered. "You _started_ something."

As both men looked at each other, Georgie took the remark seriously and considered what it would mean for all of Alexandria, for the people they loved.

* * *

Having been following the travel for about half a mile, at least, they trio stopped when Morgan spotted a small amount of blood matted down in the tall grass; suggesting that whoever was bleeding had stopped to rest there long enough to bleed upon that spot for a while.

"It's not much. But if it's Carol's, then she's been bleeding for a while," Morgan presumed. As they began to walk on, he asked, "So, you two out here because Carol is your friend?"

"We're out here 'cause she's our family," Rick clarified.

"I've talked to people back there. I found out about what happened at the prison. How you sent her away. She killed two of your people, right? Burned their bodies. What if that had happened today? Would you kill her?"

"If it happened today, I'd thank her. Or I would've killed them myself," Rick answered. She was right to do it. They were sick, spreading a disease. They weren't gonna make it."

"Yeah, but this was back then. And you didn't kill her. You sent her away, Rick, and she came back. And she came back with Georgie and they saved all y'all." Morgan looked over his shoulder at Georgie, making sure she was paying attention to what he was saying, and not just Rick who he was directly speaking to. "People can come back."

Georgie listened, she could understand where Morgan was coming from, or at least what he was trying to explain. But she thought about different people that came back and how it wasn't for the better. Namely, Jake. He came back into her life and it was for the worse. She and so many others would've been better off if he'd never come back. She wished he would've died while after abandoning her and their daughter back in their hometown. Maybe her son wouldn't have become so traumatized and changed by the things he'd seen by the time he made it to Alexandria with Aaron and Eric. Maybe then her son would still be alive.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe Carol wouldn't have stopped that day on the road. Maybe she would've kept going, thinking Georgie was just another walker ambling forward. Georgie had been walking slowly enough and was dirty enough to have been easily mistaken for one.

Maybe Georgie would've died a short time after that, from malnourishment and dehydration, if not from a walker, or one of several times she'd contemplated suicide.

If Carol hadn't stopped, maybe she wouldn't have come back. Maybe she would've kept on going and going, and then she wouldn't have found Tyreese and the girls, who would've might've made their way to Terminus and gotten corralled with Rick and the others. Maybe they would've all died there.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"You're quiet," Rick remarked after a while, looking over his shoulder at Georgie. He slowed down so that she was walking beside him so that Morgan was leading them instead of Georgie following behind both men. Lowering his voice, he brushed her arm with his hand and asked, "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just rehashing the same shit I think about every once in a while," she replied. "The shouldas, the couldas, and the wouldas."

Up ahead, movement caught all of their eyes. The figure of a female walker dressed in simple pair of brown slacks and a feminine sweater staggered forward in the tall grass, snarling at nothing. A pang of dread weighed heavily on them as they began to hurry forward. At the sound of them approaching, however, the walker turned, revealing its face.

"It's not her," Rick confirmed, feeling a small wave of relief.

Before he or Georgie could use their knives to end the walker, Morgan whacked it hard enough against the skull to end its un-life. Rick crouched down to properly look the body over.

"She couldn't have been dead more than a day," Morgan figured.

As Rick released a sigh and began to push himself back upright, a very audible creak from the barn up ahead gave rise for alarm. Darting forward through the tall grass, the three of them moved through some wooden fencing with their weapons of choice drawn. They stepped around a few dead bodies scattered here and there. The closer they got to the barn, they were able to see an armored figure step out with a spear to stab a walker up under the chin and into the skull with a spear.

Rick instinctively drew his Colt. "Hey!"

"Whoa, whoa!" the man in armor shouted fearfully. As he retreated back toward the barn, he voice became somewhat muffled. "It's okay. I'm not trouble. I don't want any trouble."

"Come out," Rick called loudly. "Drop your weapons."

"I can't do that. The wasted are too close," the man replied. "I'm just looking for my horse. Have you seen it?"

"No," Morgan answered back, weaving back and forth with Georgie as they advanced slowly behind Rick.

"We're looking for our friend," Georgie spoke up, having drawn her own gun out of its holster while still hanging onto her knife, the same as Rick. "Have you seen _her_?"

"Have you seen her?" Rick repeated.

"They're coming! Just go! Just _go_!" the man shouted back, panicked, as several walkers began to appear and headed in from where he had speared the other one. Without another word, the man used the walkers being distracted with the trio to his advantage, throwing open the door to the barn and making a run for it across the opposite field.

"Stop!" Rick yelled.

Just as he raised his gun and fired after he man, Morgan reached up and shoved him out of the way. As Rick stumbled slightly to his side, Georgie reacted without thinking and gave Morgan a retaliatory shove right back.

"What the fuck!" she bellowed.

Rick immediately glared at Morgan, who glared back, but neither the two of them nor Georgie had the time to focus on an argument at the moment. Not when a handful of walkers were about to rain down on them. While Morgan shoved his staff through the eye socket of the first walker, Rick and Georgie fell back on using their blades, driving them forward into the nearest undead skulls. When one walker clamped its hands onto Morgan's back and was moments from biting him, Rick came up from behind and shoved his knife into the side of the walker's head. Georgie gripped one by the throat to hold it at a safe enough distance so she could shove her knife up under its chin and drive the blade upward into its skull to destroy the brain.

When the last walker dropped lifelessly to the ground, both men resumed glaring at each other, with Morgan pacing somewhat like an angry cat and what right he had to be the angry one was a mystery; at least, that is, to Georgie. Turning away, Rick began to stalk over toward the spear and removed it.

"Rick," Morgan spoke, following after. "We didn't know who he was."

Rick ignored him and brought the blade of the spear up toward his face an inspected it as Georgie sauntered up on the other side of him, looking off in the direction the armored man had run. "Yeah, it's one of the Hilltop's. Like the one on the road. Maybe he's one of them. Maybe he's looking for Carol, too."

"Maybe the man is just looking for a horse," Morgan parried. "Maybe he _is_ from Hilltop. Maybe he's from somewhere else."

Rick emitted a quiet, but frustrated sigh. "I don't take chances _anymore_." He tossed the spear down and scowled at Morgan.

"Those people—the Wolves; after they attacked, I found one of them. He had attacked me on the road before, when I was trying to find you. And I stopped him. But I let him live. And then he was there in Alexandria after the attack, hiding in one of the brownstones, so I stopped him again. I knocked him out and I _could_ have killed him. But all life is precious," Morgan told them both; the last part of which they were both pretty tired of hearing and it showed on their faces. "I put him in the cell of the brownstone basement. 'Cause I knew he could change. We all can change."

"You had one of them alive in the community?" Rick interrupted; anger seething from his voice.

"Oh, yeah."

"You kept a monster like that in a place where our children live? You potentially risked out children's safety so you could be a Wolf's rehabilitator?" Georgie questioned, stepping around Rick a bit more to eye Morgan with her own justified anger.

Morgan nodded. "And when the walls came down and the walkers broke in, Carol found out. We fought and that man escaped, and Denise…she had come to the cell to try and help him and he took her hostage. And then she and that Wolf, they got swarmed, and that man, that killer, he _saved_ her life. And then Denise was there to save Carl. It—it's all a circle. Everything gets a return." He looked downward, momentarily avoiding Rick's blank gaze and Georgie's livid one.

"That…that's bullshit," Georgie muttered before she had even realized she had spoken. Knitting her brow, she glanced away from him. "If you had just killed that Wolf instead of locking him up, you wouldn't have fought Carol. Denise wouldn't have been in the position to be taken hostage. Denise's life wouldn't have been put at risk in the first place. That Wolf helped _slaughter_ innocent people in Alexandria. In the old world _and_ in this one, murder like that is punishable by death and deservedly so. Monsters like that shouldn't be able to take innocent lives and then be allowed to live, _Morgan_. That's not how this works. Every life is _not_ precious." Clenching her fist tightly around the handle of her knife, she felt the terrible urge to just stab him, but she had to remember that calmer heads prevailed. Inhaling a steadying sigh, all she would allow herself to do was sneer at him before turning and walking away a few feet.

Morgan just stood there for a moment, staring at the spot she had just vacated before slowly bringing his attention over to Rick again. "The fact is the fact. I did what I did. I let him live," he spoke. Humbly, he stepped up to Rick. "You two go home. You take the car. You're needed back there. You shouldn't be out here taking any more chances."

"I'm not leaving," Rick insisted. "Carol's still out here."

"And I will find her. Somehow." He glanced over Rick's shoulder to see that Georgie had turned around then, and was looking at the pair. "You both go."

"You're coming back," Rick said, more as a statement than as a question.

Morgan had already turned around begun to walk away by then, but stopped and looked back at Rick's words. "Yeah," he nodded. "But if I don't, don't come looking."

Rick pulled the Savior's gun he'd found under the truck out from the back of his pants and held it up to Morgan. "Take it."

"No, I—"

"Take it," Rick persisted, and handed the gun successfully over to the reluctant man. As Morgan began to turn away again, Rick stopped him. "Morgan?" When he turned around to look at Rick, there was a pause between them both as the waited for what Rick had to say. "Michonne _did_ steal that protein bar."

Morgan began to smile. "Oh, I know."

Without another word, or even a goodbye, Morgan finally began to walk away, and Rick did the same.

Sauntering several feet over toward Georgie, he placed a hand on her shoulder and brought it up to the back of her head. He didn't say anything at first. He simply pressed his lips to her temple and inhaled her scent for a moment.

"C'mon," he finally spoke. "Let's head home."

Georgie leaned back and looked up at him. "We really just gonna let Morgan go off on his own to find Carol?"

Rick half-shrugged. "He was right. He said we're needed home right now rather than out here," he commented, throwing a brief look over his shoulder at Morgan's retreating form taking out two leftover walkers with his staff. "Now that we know for certain there are more Saviors out there, and closing in on Alexandria, we needed to be there to protect it. To protect what's ours."

Georgie nodded. "Okay."

"I'm sure Carol would understand. She didn't want us coming after her in the first place, but clearly we're a pigheaded bunch."

"That we are," Georgie agreed with a smirk.

Rick holstered his Colt and tucked his knife away. Watching him, Georgie did the same. As the began to walk away from the barn, out through the gap in the wooden fence and back into the tall grass, Rick slipped a hand into Georgie's. Upon giving it a squeeze, he smiled down at her when she looked up at him.

"I love you," he muttered, lifting their hands up so he could kiss her knuckles.

"_Te amo_."

Rick snickered. "You been hanging around Rosita?"

"No. I live in a country where Spanish was the next widely spoken language. That, and I felt like changing things up a bit," she teased as he dropped their hands back down.

"I think maybe you might just be a little bit of a smartass," Rick quipped. He wasn't outright smiling at her, but the expression on his face suggested he was doing his best to hold it all in. He was still irked by everything with Carol leaving, the Saviors, and Morgan heading off. It didn't seem right to be this jovial about anything that soon after.

"Just a little bit?" Georgie gave a half smile as her mind began to wander when they stepped past the body of the walker they'd initially thought might be Carol.

Neither of them talked much after that on the way back to the car. Too much was settling upon their minds and it was rather distracting given the monotony of walking through what felt like endless tall grass. When they reached the road again, however, conversation came back as well.

"We should take that spear," Georgie suggested, staring around the pavement. "We might be able to use it."

Rick nodded. "Yeah." He sauntered over to the spear and crouched down to pick it up. Rolling it around in his hand, he stood still, just looking around and thinking again. When he glanced over to Georgie, he seemed to be focused on something. "Who do you think that guy in the armor was?"

Georgie shrugged. "I don't think he was a Savior. Saviors seem to have a ride or die attitude. They don't seem to back down from a fight, so I doubt any of them would just run away from us or walkers."

"Yeah, I think you're right. But I don't think they were Hilltop, either. Hilltop knows us; me and you, anyhow. They've seen our faces. That guy would've noticed who we are."

"We didn't recognize him, though. Maybe he was a Hilltopper who had been away from that community when we rolled in."

"Maybe."

"I think it's more likely he's from a completely different community."

Rick frowned. "As much as I'd love to return to the way the world was before, I'm not much liking this world getting bigger." With shrug forward with his left shoulder, he nodded toward their car; waiting as Georgie took the hint and joined him.

They walked side by side back to their car, where they'd left both the front doors wide open. Shoving the spear into the backseat, Rick looked across the roof of the vehicle at Georgie before sliding into the driver's seat. Once he was seated, and Georgie was beside him, they both closed the doors and Rick turned the keys in the ignition. After he made a three-point turn to turn the car around, they were soon driving back down the road the way they came.

Silence fell over them for the first mile, but it was a comfortable silence. Rick had sought out Georgie's hand again; linking his fingers with hers over the center console.

"Carol was gonna leave sooner or later," Georgie blurted after a few minutes.

Rick glanced briefly at her profile before returning his focus to the road. "What do you mean?"

"Before we got to Terminus, when we were on the tracks with Tyreese and Judith; she was gonna leave then."

"Why didn't she?"

"She had already agreed days before to help me find Tristan and I basically called her out on going back on her word." Georgie smirked somewhat. "Then we found that guy in the woods talking over the radio, referring to Carl and Michonne, and so she stayed to help free all of you."

"You helped, too, don't forget. She wasn't alone in helping us get out of that place."

"Yeah, but I was just the assistant. She was the boss."

"Still."

"And then we got to Gabriel's church and she was gone, and I thought maybe she really did just leave for good, but then we realized Daryl was gone, too, and…well, we both know how that all played out in Atlanta." Georgie sighed. "I just thought after that, even after we got to North Carolina and I thought Tristan had been killed there, that she had decided to stick around permanently. Everyone had known by then what she'd done at the prison, and no one blamed her or was angry at her. Not even Tyreese. He forgave her. He understood why she believed she'd been doing the right thing; that she was just trying to help save so many others. She had no reason to stay away. Everyone wanted her with us, and she had a home with us; a purpose with us. To just leave now…after everything…"

"Yeah, I know," Rick agreed with her unfinished sentiment. Looking up at the rearview mirror, he adjusted it back toward him so he could see anything that might be behind them.

"I don't want to put a label on it, but it almost feels like a betrayal."

"She'll come back."

"Are you so sure she will this time?"

Rick shrugged. "No," he admitted. "It's mostly just wishful thinking."

The drive continued in relative silence again until they made their final approach to Alexandria. Rick wove the car around the truck parked diagonally across the street; done so on purpose to block an immediate view of the main gate from passersby that could be unfriendly. They idled there for a few moments until Abraham rolled the gate open, allowing them to drive on through into the community.

As soon as they were just inside the gate, Rick brought the car to a stop and parked it. He and Georgie climbed out and turned back toward Abraham, who was balancing a cigar between his teeth and rolling the outer gate closed.

"Morgan's still out there looking," Rick informed, glancing back at the other cars parked along the wall. "Are the others back yet?"

"No," Abraham replied. "They're all still out there."

Rick looked forward through the metal bars of the gate and frowned. "What were they all thinking, just going off like that?"

"Daryl's still angry about that Savior getting off with his bow, and using it to kill Denise. He's on a revenge path or something."

"Had he been here, we could've used him to go find Carol," Georgie remarked, folding her arms across her chest. "He's gonna kick himself in the ass when he gets back and realize she's gone."

"And then he'll just head back out again to look for her on his own," Rick muttered. "If Morgan doesn't find and somehow bring her back first instead."

"If Morgan even _comes_ back…"

Abraham looked between the couple. "You two have words with Mr. Miyagi or something?" he questioned.

"Or something," Rick repeated.

"Morgan's out there so we can be here." Georgie looked over at her fellow ginger. "Saviors are getting closer. We didn't get rid of 'em all. There's more."

"Well, shit," the former sergeant grumbled. "That's not good."

"Rick!"

All three at the gate turned around and looked to their left, toward the direction of the solar panels, where they found Rosita flagging them down as she came running up.

Rick furrowed his brow with immediate concern, correctly assuming that something was wrong. "What is it?"

"It's Maggie," Rosita replied, her face flush from her sprint and just general anxiousness. "She was with Enid, and she doubled over in pain." Looking between primarily Rick and Georgie, and avoiding Abraham's gaze, she added, "She might be losing the baby."


	38. The New World Order

**Author's Note: It's TWD Day! Hello, season seven! Goodbye, Lucille's victim(s)! **_*sad face*_** Even though I know who it is/they are, thanks to spoilers I can never bring myself to avoid reading because I'm apparently a masochist, I chose not to include the victim(s) at the end of this chapter. I instead chose to end it with the same cliffhanger as the season 6 finale. Until I watch tonight's episode to get a feel for how it moves, I didn't want to write anything further. So, as always, enjoy and please _R&amp;R!_**

_**xoxo - Holly**_

* * *

_"__No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow." _— Euripides

* * *

In the aftermath of hearing about Maggie's sudden condition, which seemed to worsen with every passing minute, the remaining figureheads within Alexandria were on high alert. The bulk of the community's muscle currently AWOL meant those left behind for defense and protection was slim pickings; and that was only after most of the remaining muscle decided they needed to travel together in the RV to take Maggie to Hilltop for proper medical care. The other community was the only other they knew of with an actual doctor, now that Alexandria was officially without after the death of Denise. The group had been trained on basic first aid and other minor trauma-related conditions, like how to take care of someone who'd been shot or stabbed. But major issues like Maggie's, things they hadn't spent years in college learning before the outbreak, was above their theoretical pay grade.

Maggie had already been brought into the RV, where she was resting on the bed; her newly shorn hair clinging damply around her face from the perspiration on her skin. Her skin, which was normally golden from the sun, was now pallid. Dark circles were entrenched around her usually bright green eyes, which seemed to have already lost their luster. Despite the sweating, Maggie shivered as she lay there; currently being monitored by Georgie, who was occasionally mopping the younger woman's brow with a clean dish cloth. Aside from keep her company and give her some water to drink, there was nothing more Georgie could think of to do. All their questions about what Maggie was going through and what she needed could only be answered after she saw Dr. Carson at Hilltop.

Space in the RV wasn't necessarily tight, but there were enough bodies within it to make it awkward to move around if everyone was standing up at any given time. Abraham took to the wheel with Rick beside him for the most part. Sasha, Eugene, Aaron and Carl were also present, with weapons, water and bags of other supplies they might need with them depending on how long they'd be at Hilltop. Gabriel was placed in charge of Alexandria and, more importantly Judith. Since the attack from the Wolves and the herd of walkers had come busting into their community, evacuation plans had been drawn up in the event they would all have to jump ship. Vehicles were in place, routes plotted and a rendezvous point decided upon. All that was on the line now, in case those left behind had to leave while the others were gone. Should the others come back and find the place vacated, they would know where to go to find the rest of Alexandria holed up.

Hilltop wasn't exactly just a hop, skip and a jump away. It would take a little while, but not too long. It wasn't a half-day trip or anything. They would definitely get there well before evening and have plenty of daylight left if they stayed the course. But the route wasn't exactly straight, and this time they were doing it without Jesus to tell them which way to turn and when. Abraham, as driver, had to do it all by memory; especially since he was being a typical man and not wanting to rely on a map for directions.

"How's the patient?" Aaron asked, stepping into the bedroom, looking down at Maggie, though presenting Georgie with his question.

Georgie looked up at him and stood up to give him the space to step into the room. "She's good. She'll be right as rain once we get to Hilltop," she replied with a hopeful smile toward Maggie, but then turned her back on the younger woman to eye Aaron. The look she gave him said just the opposite of what she'd spoken out loud.

Aaron was good in not letting that affect how he looked back at Maggie. He kept up the concerned but hopeful façade as not to cause Maggie any undue worry. As he knelt there at her side, placing a hand gently upon her arm, he talked with her for a few moments while Georgie stood close by, just outside the room; looking forward toward the front of the RV. When Rick moved away from hovering over the passenger seat, he turned around and made eye contact with Georgie who was pulling on a plaid shirt she'd brought with her to keep the slight chill in the air at bay. With his assault rifle in hand, he approached and leaned in toward her.

"She the same or worse?"

Georgie. "Both? I wish there was more I could do. I wish I could just give her two Tylenol and a bowl of chicken soup, but whatever is wrong goes beyond the common cold."

"We've all be under stress, on any given day…maybe…" Rick sighed, trying to grasp for straws where an explanation was concerned. "Maybe it's not the baby. Maybe it's an ulcer or a burst appendix."

"Both of which I'm sure can't be good for the baby."

Rick bowed his head and nodded. "Yeah." Touching a hand to her shoulder, he stepped around her and locked eyes with Aaron as he moved closer to the bedroom. Without another word, Rick and Aaron changed places, with Rick setting his gun down and crouching down at Maggie's bedside. "Hey," he greeted her.

"Hey," she repeated, though much quieter, as she lay there somewhat on her side.

"We're gonna get there. The doctor at the Hilltop, he's gonna make things better." As Maggie turned her face away slightly, looking nowhere near as hopeful as Rick was trying to sound, he leaned closer to her and brushed some hair off her forehead in such a loving manner, as if she was his flesh and blood little sister. "_Hey_."

"How d'you know?" Maggie asked, fighting back the tears in her eyes.

"Everything we've done, we've done together. We got here together and we're still here," he replied more quietly, more soothing. "Things have happened, but it's always worked out for us 'cause it's always been _all_ of us. That's how I know. 'Cause as long as it's all of us, we can do _anything_."

Carl came up beside Georgie, with a fuller bottle of water in his hand which he passed off to her. "I figured she might need another one."

Georgie smiled affectionately at the teen, taking the bottle with her right hand and placing her left on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "She does. Thank you," she nodded.

"Just doing my part."

Georgie's smile began bigger. "You always are." As he slipped away more toward the front, Georgie stepped inside the bedroom and tapped the water bottle against his left shoulder blade.

"Thanks." When he took it, he removed the cap and held it up for Maggie to sip from; not even realizing she already had a bottle she'd been drinking from.

"What the bitch?" came Abraham's colorful exclamation.

"What?" Rick questioned, passing water bottle duty off to Georgie as he stood up and made a beeline for the front of the RV which was coming to a steady stop.

"Enemy close." As those closest to the front managed to see out the windshield to the group of men blocking the road, Abraham asked, "We doing this?"

"No."

As Georgie stood up to see what was going on, Rick was moving toward the door and Abraham was placing the RV into park. Everyone seemed to be reaching for the weapons, so Georgie prepared to do the same, but Rick saw her before he exited and just shook his head at her.

His meaning was clear.

Stay with Maggie, keep her calm.

Of course, that didn't mean Georgie was going to be.

As everyone, Carl included, exited the RV, they left the door wide open so Georgie could more or less hear some of the conversation. She knew if she could, then so could Maggie. Standing up in the archway between the bedroom and the rest of the RV, she had a good view of the road ahead on the other side of the windshield while keeping herself hidden in the shadows of the RV if anyone from that distance away looked into the vehicle. In truth, all they'd probably see was a glare or some other reflection from their side of the road in the mirror, not Georgie. They would have no idea there were two more people inside the RV. Georgie was already mentally preparing herself on how she could use that to her advantage in a pinch.

Quickly, she began mentally cataloguing where the other weapons and ammo were stashed within the RV and, more importantly, which she was closest to.

Her focus diverted to Rick stepping directly in front of the RV, walking a few feet down the middle of the road with his hands in the air to signify he meant no harm; although the automatic rifle in his hand and the hands of the others signified they were prepared for a fight if it should come to that.

"What's going on?" Maggie asked; her voice shaky and low.

"Rick's talking to some men."

"Who are they?"

Georgie frowned. "Saviors, I think."

"Shit."

"Yeah, tell me about it. And not the best of times to cross paths with them," she remarked. "Not when we got you to focus on."

"Now what are they saying?"

"I can't really tell. Rick gave the signal for everyone to fall back. They're headed back here."

"That's good. No fighting is a good sign."

"I know I'm meant to stay here and keep you calm—"

"_But_…" Maggie smirked, or at least tried to, as Georgie looked over her shoulder at her. "Well, don't sugarcoat anything for my sake."

"Well, it just doesn't feel like a good sign. I can't really hear what's being said, but the body language is tense and uneasy on both sides. I don't like it."

Everyone began to step back inside the RV and resume their same places, more or less, as before; all but Rick, who paused just outside. Standing just outside the open door, his voice wafted easily inside the vehicle, clear as day.

"You want to make today your last day on Earth?" he asked.

Georgie closed her eyes and was mentally smacking him across the back of the head.

_Don't poke the bear, idiot._

Whatever the response was from the Saviors, she couldn't hear, especially now with the others making subtle noise inside the vehicle.

"You do the same," Rick remarked.

No one spoke as he came back up into the RV or even after Abraham turned the key in the ignition and backed the RV up; away from the Saviors' roadblock.

After backtracking for a little while, they soon pulled over to the side of the road to figure out a new route for getting to Hilltop. This time, Abraham couldn't rebuff the idea of using the map. Aaron had taken over sitting at Maggie's bedside, which was an easy task now that she had easily fallen asleep thanks to the quiet in the RV and the rumbling lull as they drove along. Carl, too, had joined in to watch over her, or maybe it was to just keep Aaron company.

At the table, Eugene had the map spread out before him and was tapping a specific spot. "Logrun Road's a straight shot."

"We want visibility," Sasha informed.

Eugene looked across the table at her and then back down to the map to reconsider a different option. "There, you got it on Shelton. Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain. No bum rush from the bogeyman. We'd see them from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third, but we'd get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens."

"You're being serious, right?"

"As coronary thrombosis."

"You got a route?" Rick asked, coming up beside Sasha and glancing down at the map.

"Yeah," she nodded.

As Abraham slipped by, the dull sound of a walker thudding against the side of the RV and growling could be faintly heard. It was of no concern to any of them inside. Georgie leaned over the passenger chair and out the window and could see it was just the one walker. Once Abraham had slipped back into the driver seat and started the RV back up again, Georgie sank down onto the armrest of the passenger chair.

"Let's go," Rick muttered.

Standing up, Sasha moved around Rick and made her way up front and nodded at Georgie. "Mind if I slip by?" she asked politely, gesturing to the passenger chair.

Georgie got off the arm rest and stepped out of the way. "No, go ahead." As she turned around, finding herself face to face with Rick, he gestured for her to take a seat beside him at the table. "So, do you think it was necessary to goad that asshole like that?" she asked him quietly, although it was difficult for Eugene not to hear since he was still sitting at the table, going over the map.

"What do you mean?" Rick turned, turning his back more toward the wall.

"She's talking about how you taunted that Savior about if he wanted today to be his last day on earth. But then he turned it around on you," Eugene intruded into the conversation without even looking up from the map. "We all heard from in here."

"Was it necessary?" Georgie asked again, raising an eyebrow at Rick.

As soon as he opened his mouth to respond, he closed it just as quick and let out a sigh. With a shrug, he muttered, "No, it wasn't _necessary_. It felt right in the moment. And he was pissing me off."

"We're heading toward a serious confrontation with these people. I don't know when, but I'd rather it not be today. We're not prepared for something like that right now. We're not _home_ for that right now. Too many of our people are missing, we're at bare bones protection back at Alexandria…" Georgie frowned. "Can we just play it safe today?"

Rick just sat there, studying the way she stared back at him. He jutted his jaw out slightly in thought before bringing it back to lick his bottom lip. "I can do my very best," he replied. "It's not like I wanna put any of us at risk right now. Especially not with Maggie so ill and with Carl here."

"Then let's just stay the course, get to Hilltop, and get Maggie the help she needs. We'll figure out the rest when we get there."

Smirking, but mostly just with his eyes, Rick nodded. Throwing an arm over the back of the seat, he slid it behind Georgie and pulled her into his side while carefully keeping his rifle propped up between his knees. "We'll get there."

* * *

No less than twenty minutes later, the road was coming to an end; both literally and figuratively. Where the road ceased, it ran perpendicular with another road. To the right of this new road, it curved a few times and was littered with countless fallen, dead leaves that were all different shades and from the previous autumn. The figurative end to the road, though, came in the form of another roadblock set up by the Saviors.

"Bitch nuts," Abraham remarked as the RV turned the corner and he slowly brought it to a stop.

Tapping Georgie's hip, he ushered her to slide out of the booth so that he could get out. When he was standing, he stepped forward to the front of the vehicle and peered through the windshield at the scene ahead of them as the others, sans Maggie, came up behind him to do the same.

As Rick crouched down slightly, he felt an unwavering pang of unease in his gut.

"We making our stand?" Sasha inquired, turning to look over her shoulder at him.

"Yeah, we end it," Carl decided.

"No, not now," Rick countered. "They've been waiting. They're ready. With one of us behind the wheel, that's…five on 16. We're gonna play it our way, how we want it." Turning around, he looked back at his son. "Right?"

Carl looked back and nodded. "Right."

Abraham was nodding, too, as Rick patted his arm briefly. "Alright, go slow."

Standing back up, Rick began to slowly move toward the window on the right side of the RV, staring out at the Saviors as Abraham backed the vehicle up. One Savior standing toward the front of the others aimed his gun upward and firing a few random shots into the air. The others in the RV kept their eyes glued upon the Saviors as Abraham turned the RV and turned left onto that perpendicular road, once again leaving the Saviors in their wake.

Returning to crouch between Abraham and Sasha in the front of the RV, he turned to the larger man. "How are we on gas?"

"Half a tank. I pulled some more cans before we left."

"Those weren't the same men who blocked the road the first time," Sasha commented.

"Same outfit, different soldiers," Abraham deduced, looking briefly and seriously at Rick. "They got numbers."

"Yeah, we keep driving, we get her there," Rick insisted, thinking on getting Maggie the help she needed. They weren't in the position to delay that at the moment. A fight with the Saviors would have to wait.

Sasha gave an adamant nod of her head. "We will."

"If we have to shove each and every one of them up their own asses," came Abraham's remark, expanding on Sasha's reassurance. Just as he turned to look forward at the road again, he was forced to bring the wheels to a screeching halt as he pressed his foot firmly against the brake pedal.

Rick was growing more anxious and more frustrated with every passing moment.

Directly before them as a wall of walkers; chained together to create yet another roadblock they all had to deal with.

"We can't go through it. Can't risk the RV. You stay behind the wheel, just in case." The latter comment he'd meant for Abraham, and then checked his rifle, out of habit. "We'll clear it."

Leading the way out of the RV, Rick immediately raised his gun, looking carefully around at the sloping incline of woods on either side of the road to keep an eye out for anyone or any_thing_. Everyone else followed and each with their own gun in hand; Georgie, Sasha, Aaron, Carl and Eugene. The chained walkers snarled and rattled with the chains holding them together as the living neared.

"Putting together a red rover like that takes people," Eugene commented. "A lot of 'em."

"C'mon, let's do this." Lowering his rifle, Rick let the strap hold it safely under his arm at his side as he reached for his hatchet instead.

"Dad—"

When Georgie saw where the teen was nodding toward, her eyes scanned to the female walker and how she was dressed. "That's Michonne's," she realized, pointing at the walker with the SIG Sauer P228 in her hand. The walker was wearing Michonne's brown, leather vest and a few of Michonne's dreads was stuck upon the walker's temple. The blood at the base of the dreads gave the clear impression that they had to have been forcefully pulled from Michonne's scalp and not gently cut off.

"That's Daryl's," Sasha spoke, nodding with her head toward the long-haired male walker at the other end with two bolts from Daryl's crossbow sticking out of its chest.

As Rick considered all this, he sneered while moving forward toward the female walker. Reaching out, he yanked the dreads from the walker's temple and emitted a frustrated grunt. As he raised his hatchet to end the female walker, automatic gunfire rang out and bullets began to ricochet off the ground at their feet. Everyone practically jumped out of their skin as they began to scatter and run for cover the RV offered.

"Get back to the RV! Go!" Rick shouted, waving everyone off, as Abraham left his post behind the wheel of the RV to join them; not about to sit this out.

Gunfire continued, but this time it was also from their group. They weren't about to go silently into that goodnight. Like an animal backed into a corner, they lashed back. With Abraham leading them, they began to fire up toward the top of the embankment on either side of the road; their group shooing at any movement they saw. Only occasionally did they actually spot bodies of the men darting between the trees that were firing back at them.

Georgie cried out suddenly and she dropped her arms down at her sides while Rick took his hatchet and hacked at the female walker's arm. In cutting her arm in half, it created a gap between the walkers which would allow them to go forward on the road. The walker that had been linked beside the female walker ambled after Rick in an attempt to bite him, but Rick pushed at its neck and kicked its knee. The walker dropped and Rick took his hatchet to the skull of the next walker.

"Abraham: start it up!" Rick shouted over the din of the gunfire.

Sasha shot through the face of the female walker, which took out the other two standing directly behind. Three birds with one stone, so to speak. Rick hacked at another walker's face, as their group gradually began to properly retreat.

The last inside the RV, Rick slammed the door shut as Abraham wasted little to no time sliding back behind the wheel and putting the idling vehicle into drive. The second the RV lurched forward, Aaron grabbed for Rick's arm and yanked him back slightly.

Caught off guard, Rick whipped around, instinctively ready to get physical, until he blinked that away and took note of the seriousness of the other man's face as he gestured to Georgie who was slumped into the kitchenette table's booth. Following Aaron's gaze, he looked to see there was blood seeping from Georgie's right thigh and she was sucking in air at a rapid rate. His blue eyes suddenly wide with fear, Rick dropped to his knees in front of Georgie and placed a hand on her knee.

"You were shot?"

She nodded. "I think it was a ricochet," she panted. "They were aiming at our feet."

Turning abruptly at Eugene, Rick pointed. "First aid kit. Now."

"On it," Eugene nodded.

"The bullet's still in there," Georgie added. "It didn't go through." She sucked in a pained breath. "Oh, fuck me. This hurts more than the last time I got shot."

"Last time your mind was in shock. You weren't feeling anything, especially not a gunshot," Rick commented, trying to remain calm. "You were on autopilot."

"I got this, Rick," Aaron insisted, taking the first aid kit from Eugene and nudging Rick out of the way.

Forcing himself to stand up, Rick silently acquiesced as he watched Aaron take over in kneeling down in front of Georgie and opt the kit up. He removed a pair of scissors and began to cut at the material of Georgie's jeans around the bullet hole to give him better access to the found.

"I'm absolutely no doctor, but I don't think the bullet hit anything major," Aaron commented.

"Just get it out," Georgie winced.

"Here." Carl climbed over the back of the seat and sank down behind Georgie. Snaking his arms under her armpits, he wrapped them over her chest and held her back against his chest. "Hold on to me. Don't think about the pain."

Lifting her hands up, Georgie gripped his wrists tightly and bit down on her bottom lip just as Aaron poured some rubbing alcohol into the wound to clean it, causing her to promptly cry out in further pain. Rick knitted his brow together, his hands shaking from having to just watch her squirm as Aaron used tweezers to fish the bullet out of her thigh. His hands were also shaking from the fear that Michonne and Daryl might be dead, from the items placed upon those walkers. Not to mention the fear that they might not get Maggie to Hilltop in time, or at all; that the Saviors wouldn't stop messing around with them.

"I got it," Aaron muttered, holding the bloody bullet up with the tweezers.

Eugene held out a coffee cup to allow Aaron to drop the bullet and the tweezers into it so that Aaron could focus on the next task, which was pouring a bit more rubbing alcohol into the wound again, causing Georgie to cry out yet again in pain. Next came the needle and thread, which would hurt just as much. Like a nurse assisting a doctor, Eugene set the coffee cup into the sink and then grabbed a clean towel and held it up to Georgie's mouth.

"You're gonna want to bite down on this so you don't grind your teeth and break a tooth."

Glancing up at Eugene with eyes watering from pain, Georgie simply nodded and opened her mouth for him to stick the cloth in. Biting down, her eyes wandered over to Rick as Aaron began to task of trying to stitch her wound up. The moment the needle punctured her skin and the thread was being slid through, Georgie's yelp was muffled slightly by the cloth. As the needle was pulled through the other side, as Aaron began to torturous task of sewing the wound shut, the mix of pain and minor blood loss seemed to suddenly hit Georgie. Her eyes drooped shut and her head tilted backward onto Carl's shoulder; passing out.

Rick lurched forward, leaning over the crouched Aaron to reach for Georgie but was quick to realize that passing out is all that had happened. Her mind had shut down to escape the pain her body was in; having to go through all that without any sort of anesthetic. Rick brushed aside some of her hair and looked from her face to his son's.

"She's okay, dad," Carl assured. "I got her."

"How's Little Red doing?" Abraham inquired from the driver's seat, invoking a nickname for Georgie he had given her but only used a few times in the few months they'd known each other. She was Little Red because, obviously, he was Big Red, due to their difference in height and build.

"She'll be okay," Aaron insisted.

As Aaron was finishing up with Georgie, Sasha had grabbed for the map so they could determine where they were going to head next. The sound of the RV squealing slightly caused Sasha to turn and look briefly toward Abraham.

"What's that sound?" she wondered.

Eugene moved back toward the front of the RV, stepping around Aaron to stand beside Sasha and look down at the map with her. "Undercarriage could've caught a bullet," he presumed. "Or could be transmission. It could be nothing."

Aaron finished stitching Georgie's wound and trimmed the excess string with the scissors before placing them into the first aid box. Removing the cloth from Georgie's mouth, he placed the material down over the stitched wound instead and eyed Carl. "Hold this hear for me until I can find an bandage of some sort to wrap around her leg, okay?"

Carl nodded. "Okay," he agreed, doing as instructed.

Standing up, Aaron pushed on his knees and turned to head toward the back bedroom, knowing they'd more of the first aid they'd brought with them into the RV was there. It also gave him the opportunity to check in on Maggie.

"They were firing at our feet," Rick muttered, repeating what Georgie had said, as the RV began squealing again. "They blocked the road, but they weren't trying to stop us. They want us in this direction."

"Barton Road takes us north, but they gotta know we wanna go north," Sasha remarked, looking over at him.

"Meadows," Eugene spoke, pointing to a spot on the map. "Could take us east a piece, but we can get back on track on Mayhew."

"We're down to a third of a tank. We could top off at the next stop, but no refills after that."

Rick looked down at the map and nodded. "Alright."

Stepping out of the bedroom and over toward Rick, Aaron grabbed Rick's arm and gestured in Maggie's direction. "She's burning up."

Rick looked down dejectedly.

With the RV squealing further, Abraham broke the temporary silence within the vehicle. "Rick," he called out; the brakes also squealing as he brought them to yet another stop.

Leaning forward to glance out the windshield, Rick was struck with the sight of what looked like almost two dozen Saviors standing around and atop several vehicles blocking the road up ahead; and all were heavily armed.

"Go back," Rick muttered; his fear silently eating at him.

Abraham just looked at him. "Where?"

"Just go back."

Without further question, Abraham did as asked, even though they were virtually out of options now. Standing up straight, Rick teetered slightly as the RV backed up on the road and turned around. Glancing over at his son and Georgie, his heart felt like it was being squeeze like a dog's chew toy. Not in a physically pained way, but with an emotional ache. Seeing that Carl still had a protective hold around Georgie as Aaron had sank back down to wrap a bandage firmly around Georgie's thigh, Rick moved toward the back bedroom to check in on Maggie.

Entering the room, he knelt down and brought a hand to her forehead and could easily feel for himself the fever that was raging within the young woman. Her skin looked even more pallid and clammy than before; her face slick with fresh perspiration as she looked tiredly up at him.

"Are we close?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Smoothing the hair back off her forehead and holding her hand in his, Rick nodded and somewhat lied. "Yeah, we're—we're getting there."

"Were there—I heard shots."

"Yeah, the Saviors, but they're gone. We are. We're gonna get you there." He opted not to tell her the part about Georgie getting shot. He felt it wasn't something she needed to worry herself with. Not now. Not like this, how she was.

"I know."

"You're gonna be okay. The baby's gonna be okay. This isn't it. This isn't it," he insisted with tears in his eyes; staring as lovingly down at her as if she were his own flesh and blood. "There's more. There's gonna be more."

"I believe in you, Rick."

Rick brushed his thumb along her hairline and smiled slightly and kissed her forehead. "You just rest. We're gonna be to Hilltop real soon, okay?"

Maggie attempted to nod, but she was too weak to really move. As she slowly closed her eyelids to succumb once more to sleep, Rick stood back up and just looked her over for a moment. When his eyes wandered to the other bed, he thought about having Georgie lay out upon it, but worried about how it might worried Maggie might get about it. He didn't want to stress Maggie out and Aaron assured him Georgie would be fine. The bullet hadn't gone deep enough nor had it nicked anything serious. Aaron had cleaned and stitched the wound quickly and without hesitation. Rick had no reason to doubt the woman he loved would recover. He just hoped that whenever they were able to make it to Hilltop that Dr. Carson could also spare a moment to look at Georgie and maybe give her something for the pain and to stave off any infection she might incur as time passed while her body tried to heal.

* * *

A short while later, the RV came to park under an overpass because up ahead was yet another roadblock. This time, it was in the form of giant wall of logs that the group had no way of moving out of the way. Georgie had woken up but was considerably drained from the wound she'd incurred. Despite his worry over how Maggie might worry about Georgie being hurt, Rick felt it better if Georgie laid down as well. Sitting up in the booth wasn't enough. Helping her to her feet, he helped her walk to the back to the bedroom as she hopped slightly on her good leg, which caused the RV to shake a little, but not enough to stir awake the sleeping Maggie. As Georgie sank down onto the opposite bed, she looked up at Rick with a tired smile.

"Sorry I threw a wrench into our already fucked up plans," she muttered quietly as she sank down against the mattress.

"This wasn't your fault," he insisted, leaning over her and brushing her hair away from her face the same he'd done to Maggie's. "This is them. Not us. You just lay here and rest until we figure out what to do next, okay?"

"Okay."

As he began to retreat out of the bedroom, Rick tapped her boot and muttered a quiet "I love you" before joining the others in leaving the RV.

Slowly they all approached the wall of logs.

"These tracks they would indicate they not only have people, but some big-ass toys and capabilities," Eugene remarked in regard to the dark tire marks in front of the wall.

"What it indicates is we are neck-deep up shit creek with our mouths wide open," Abraham countered. Before anyone could say anything about anything, a man screamed and they all turned around in time to see the same victim the Saviors had been beating on earlier being hung from the overpass with a chain wrapped around his neck. As the man struggled and gasped pointlessly for breath that would soon leave him, Aaron pointed his rifle up at the man. "Don't," Abraham asserted with a wave of his hand at Aaron.

"I can try and break the chain."

"It won't work."

"I can try."

"It won't work," Rick repeated as the man continued to choke. "And we need the bullets."

As the man took his last few gasps of air, Rick turned around at the sound of fire crackling. Spots between the logs had sprung flames and the smell of burning wood quickly reached their nostrils.

"_You're treating your people good, right?"_

It was the voice of the Savior that Rick had spoken to on the road earlier; the one that had been kicking the man who was now hanging dead from the overpass.

"_Like it was your last day on Earth? Or maybe one of theirs?"_ The Savior continued; unseen, somewhere on the other side of the wall of logs. _"You better go. It's gonna get hot. You go get where you're going."_

"Go, go," Rick urged his people. They wasted no time in retreating back into the RV. "Get on."

As Abraham returned to the driver's seat, he started the engine up again and backed the vehicle up under the overpass so they could head back in the direction they had come from. After a few minutes, though, they veered off onto a more private road that didn't really go anywhere. They simply needed somewhere out of the way where they wouldn't be spotted so they could once again get their bearings. While they'd still been moving, Rick had gone back to check on both Maggie and Georgie again. While both were asleep, only Maggie seemed to be worse for wear.

Returning to the front of the RV once they were parked, Rick stepped among the others.

"So, what's the play?" Abraham asked.

"She needs a doctor," Rick answered, referring to Maggie.

Sasha was standing at the table, once more pouring over the map. "There are two more routes north from here."

"They're probably waiting for us right now," Aaron remarked, saying what they were all thinking.

"So, they're ahead of us, probably behind us. But they're not waiting on us, per se," Eugene rattled, his voice a bit shaky with nerves, but also sounding somewhat resolute. "They're waiting on this rust bucket. And they don't know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon."

Abraham nodded at Eugene, and then looked up at Rick, who looked between both men and also nodded. The three of them alone seemed to understand what it was that Eugene was inferring.

* * *

The sun overhead had already begun its descent. Because of the tree coverage, it was impossible to tell if it had slipped below the horizon just yet, but now the blue sky had taken on pink and dark purple hues. Before long, it was practically pitch black and crickets were singing their timeless tune. After the group had agreed that the Saviors would likely be expecting them to be traveling in the RV and not by foot, by foot is how they opted to go from there on out, as risky a move it could prove to be what with it being after nightfall and not being able to see very well if walkers approached. It was a risk they had to take, though. Truthfully, it was their only viable option and they couldn't waste any more time. They needed to get Maggie to Hilltop without any further delay.

Approaching from the rear of the RV with an empty gas canister, Rick walked up to Eugene. "That's the last of it. If you see a car, try to siphon the gas. Other than that, you keep moving."

"I'll have them thinking we're playing their game. All phases of the turn, level after level, move after move, I'll keep them spun. I assure you, I will," Eugene remarked with his usual mundane tone, but not without some vigor this time. "I got something for you. It's a recipe, and it ain't gazpacho," he added, withdrawing two sheets of paper from his pocket and handing them over to Rick. "How to Build Bullets 101. Abraham can show you where, just in case."

Rick looked down at the papers and then up at Eugene. "Thank you for this. For all of it," he spoke honestly. "We're lucky you're here."

"I won't argue with that," Eugene retorted. "I like to think I'm no longer that same guy of whom Georgie wanted to kick the teeth in."

Rick smirked. "I'm fairly certainly you aren't," he commented, touching Eugene briefly upon the arm before stepping away just as Abraham walked up.

"You go steady on the pedal. You don't make that thing gulp."

Eugene just stared back at Abraham. "How come you never let me drive the truck?"

"I didn't think you could do it," the burly ginger admitted. "I was wrong. You're a survivor." With a slight chuckle, he added, "You always were. We just didn't know it. Me and you both."

As Abraham offered his hand, Eugene just looked at it for a moment and then chose to throw his arms around Abraham for a hug instead.

When they parted from their embrace, Abraham stepped away. Rick, Aaron and Sasha were carrying Maggie out on a stretcher she'd been lying on while Carl had already stepped out ahead. His task would be to clear the way for them as they made their trip through the woods.

"Thank you," Maggie whispered, looking up at Eugene as he walked over.

He just nodded back and then looked over at Abraham who was holding his hands out to Georgie. She was standing at the top of the steps inside the RV, but she wasn't exactly in the place to be walking around on her leg right now with that wound so fresh. If she were to try, she'd probably yelp out in pain the entire time and draw unwanted attention to them. She had offered to stay with Eugene but Rick had been absolutely and very adamantly against it. He couldn't leave her behind, especially since Eugene was running the risk of being the decoy which could likely prove fatal for him. And that's where Abraham came in.

He was going to carry her.

"How we doing this?" she asked with a smirk. "Piggyback or bridal?"

"Piggyback," Abraham replied, turning around. "I might need the use of my hands."

"That's what she said," Georgie muttered as she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Reaching his own arms backward, Abraham chuckled at her comment as he helped hoisted her onto his back. "I knew I liked you for a reason. You got a dirty mind," he quipped, hooking his hands under her knees so that she could wrap her legs around his waist.

"Ah," she grimaced in pain; the muscle in her right thigh flexing.

"Don't worry, Little Red. I got you," he assured. "I won't let you fall."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You can pay me back when we get home to Alexandria."

With a smile, Georgie glanced over at Eugene. She simply nodded her goodbye to him as Abraham began to walk forward with her on his back. Bringing her focus back forward, she did her best to ignore the throbbing, aching pain in her thigh as she watched the way Rick looked briefly over his shoulder to make sure Abraham and her were following.

As they slipped into the woods, Eugene slipped into the RV and closed the door behind him.

Moments later the engine started up and the rest of them could hear the vehicle drive away; none of them really sure whether or not they would see the vehicle or Eugene again.

* * *

They all tried not to think of how far they had to go, on foot, in the dark. It would be a few miles, at least, and they weren't all too sure they were even going in the right direction, but they had to keep going. They couldn't stop, except to rest their arms for a minute or two for those carrying Maggie.

"You can set me down, you know," Georgie muttered into Abraham's ear. "Just let me throw an arm around your shoulder and I can hop the rest of the way on one foot."

"Not gonna happen," he replied adamantly.

During one of their few, brief rest periods, while Sasha was giving Maggie the remainder of their water to drink from, Rick came over to both gingers and placed a hand on the side of Georgie's face. "How you holding up?"

Georgie smirked. "Abe won't let me walk. Either he's too manly and needs to be my knight in shining armor or he just thinks I'm an invalid who'll slow the rest of us down."

"Both," Abraham grunted with slight amusement in his voice.

Rick smirked, looking from his brusque friend and then back to his lady. "I can carry her for a while if you want?" he offered to Abraham.

"Nah, I got her just fine. Just keep helping the others with Maggie."

Looking once more between the pair, Rick focused primarily on Georgie as she nodded at him and said she was fine with Abraham. Rick nodded back and patted Abraham's arm. He didn't say anything else as he turned back to pick up the front of the stretcher, hinting to Sasha and Aaron to literally pick up where they left off.

Continuing on through the dark woods, they happened upon a single walker in their path. It was ambling toward them with a rather large tree branch impaled through its midsection, but was effortlessly taken out by Carl as the teen sliced its head in half with the machete in his hands.

"Aaron, please," Maggie spoke quietly. "Just let me walk it."

"Relax. Just a few more miles," he replied, keeping his eyes open for anything ahead of them.

"If they won't let _me_ walk, they sure as hell won't let _you_ walk," Georgie remarked, trying to help bring some lightness to their situation.

The corner of Maggie's mouth curved upward in an attempt to smile. But she was too drained to see it through.

"I heard what you told her when we were leaving," Carl spoke, walking beside his father. "We _can_ do anything, 'cause we'll do anything we need to do. We have and we will. What happened to Denise, I'm not gonna let anybody die like that again."

Rick looked to his teenager, this young man. "Son—"

"—What?"

Before Rick could say whatever he had been about to say, whistling began to echo throughout the woods, coming from all directions. The group came to a halt and began to nervously look around, catching brief glimpses of men moving around between the trees, in the dark.

"Go! Go!" Rick cried out to them.

Without wasting a moment, they began to run as fast as they can while carrying Maggie on the stretcher and Georgie on Abraham's back. They veered right, dodging tree branches and continued to weave around among the trees as the whistling persisted. It seemed that no matter which way they went, the whistling continued and it sounded like more and more people were contributing to the whistling. The numbers seemed to be increasing with each step their group took.

As they darted out into a clearing, flood lights popped on; halting them where they stood as the whistling Saviors came stepping out of the woods, but also revealed so many already waiting right there in that clearing. Waiting for _them_.

There were at least a hundred Saviors, standing around all sorts of vehicles; vehicles the group had seen on the road as roadblocks. Turning around to assess their surroundings, the group easily deduced just how trapped they were. They'd been basically led through a maze and brought purposely to this place; to the end of the line, trapped like animals against a much larger predator. Predators that were standing around, still whistling, and holding mostly blunt weapons like bats, lead pipes and hammers.

Directly in front of them was their RV, and a few feet in front of it, somberly on his knees, was Eugene, with fresh cut over his right eyebrow and blood that had been running down from it. Rick was visibly shaking with a fear he couldn't remember ever feeling before. His curls were drenched in sweat, which dripped down the sides of his face as he continued to look around; wishing and hoping for some silver lining. _Any_ silver lining.

But there was none.

There would be none.

"Good. You made it." Out from the shadows stepped the head Savior that Rick had interacted with; the same one who had spoken to all them from the other side of the flaming wall of logs. He was smiling at them, specifically at Rick. "Welcome to where you're going. We'll take your weapons." Without missing a beat, he withdrew a gun and aimed it at Carl. "Now."

Rick stared at the Savior, suddenly very broken. "We can talk about—"

"We're done talking," the Savior interrupted. "Time to listen."

Without hesitation, several Saviors walked up to the group and began to strip all their weapons from them; their guns, their knives. Everything. In doing so, Georgie was forced down from Abraham's back so the Saviors could properly frisk them both. She landed roughly down on her legs, which forced her leg muscles to tense and sent a jolt of pain to her gunshot wound. She winced and inhaled a sharp breath, but kept quiet as she clung closely to Abraham after the Saviors stepped back with the group's weapons in their hands.

"That's yours, right?" The head Savior was asking Carl as he held the gun that teen had been carrying.

Carl simply glared back, defiantly; somehow managing to appear less fazed than his father or any of the other adults in their group.

The head Savior leaned in and whispered, "Yeah, it's yours." As Carl wavered and noticeably gulped, the Savior flicked Carl's hat and leaned back up. "Okay. Let's get her down and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover."

As a few of the Saviors walked over to Maggie to get her down from the stretcher Rick, Sasha and Aaron were still holding, Abraham spoke with an angered tone. Then again, that really wasn't anything new. "Hold up. _We_ got it," he insisted.

"Sure, sure," the head Savior conceded.

Abraham stepped forward to help Rick, Sasha and Aaron set the stretcher down and then helped Rick with getting Maggie up to her feet since she could barely stand on her own. At the same moment, Eugene was picked up off his knees and led over to his own people before being dropped back down upon his knees once more. Abraham knelt down, still holding onto Maggie, while Rick stood up and looked around, focusing on his son who was furthest away from him.

"Gonna need you on your knees," the head Savior reminded as he stepped up in front of Rick.

Father and son looked at each other again before Rick moved to finally kneel. When he did, the others still standing followed suit. Sasha, closest to Rick, knelt down on his left while Maggie was at his right. Georgie hobbled forward, and used Abraham's right shoulder as a brace as she slowly brought herself down to her knees. She dropped forward initially but quickly moved to right herself. Aaron knelt beside Sasha and Carl between Aaron and Eugene. Eugene and Georgie made up the bookends to their line.

"Dwight!" the head Savior called out.

"Yeah?" a Savior with string, chin-length blonde hair and a burn scar along the left side of his face stepped forward.

"Chop-chop."

Dwight walked over to a van with holes that peppered the doors he opened up. Inside, Daryl was immediately revealed, sitting there with a blanket around his shoulders and squinting from the bright flood lights that had immediately assaulted his sight. He looked almost as pallid as Maggie, but his reasoning for looking like shit was clearly the wound he had at his shoulder, judging from all the blood.

"Come on. You got people to meet."

As Dwight yanked Daryl from the van, other Saviors stepped forward to yank the rest out. Next revealed was Michonne, then Rosita, and finally Glenn. Each of them were dragged forward and forced to kneel down in the line with the others.

When Glenn saw his wife, his stomach did a somersault. "Maggie?"

"On your knees," a Savior demanded, grabbing at Glenn.

Georgie turned and looked to her immediate right, at Michonne beside her, kneeling straight. After her was Daryl who was sitting back on his feet despite technically being on his knees. Rosita, blank-faced but nervous, followed, and then Glenn, who was still holding his gaze with Maggie, wondering why she was there and what was wrong with her. And…what happened to her hair?

As the head Savior stepped back from the lineup, he instead moved closer to the RV and reached for the door. "Al_right_. We got a full boat! Let's meet the man." He knocked twice on the outer wall beside the door and then walked off, dropping Carl's gun down a foot or two in front of the teen.

A moment later the RV door opened up and out walked a man wearing a black leather jacket and a red scarf while holding a bat over his left shoulder.

The man smirked.

"Pissing our pants yet?" he asked before moving further out from the shadows into the glow of the flood lights. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." He began walking in front of each person on their knees, taking in their faces as he smiled again. "It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon." When he got in front of Michonne, he stopped and looked around again. "Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

The head Savior, who had moved behind the line, pointed at Rick. "It's this one. He's the guy."

The man turned toward Rick and then walked up to him. He smiled a smile that in any other situation could be construed as beautiful and charming. "Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed _more_ of my people. Not cool. Not fucking cool. You have no _fucking_ idea how not _fucking _cool that shit is. _But_ I think you're gonna be up to speed here shortly." As Rick shook slightly while looking back up at him, the man — Negan — shook his head. "Yeah. You are _so_ gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes." Negan smiled that charming smile again. "_Fuck_ yeah, you are. You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter fucking what, you do not mess with the new world order. The new world order is this and it's really very simple. Even if you're fucking stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it. Now I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly _motherfucking_ will."

Negan maintained his place primarily in front of Rick, but he was occasionally glancing around at everyone's faces; clearly sizing each person up. Rick' shoulders were slumped. His defeat was obvious and it was something their group had never experienced before. There had always been something to intervene and save the day. Usually Carol, but this time there was no Carol there to help them. Carol would not be saving their ass this night. They were royally fucked and it was truly terrifying.

"You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe," Negan continued. "I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even fucking close. In fact, you are fucked. More fucked if you don't give me what I want, and what I want is half your shit, and if that is too much, then you can go make, find or steal more and it'll even out sooner or later. This," he spun slowly around for dramatic effect to emphasize his point, "is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone comes to your door, you _fucking_ let us in. We _own_ that _fucking_ door. You try to fucking stop us, we will fucking knock that fucker down. You understand?"

No one answered, especially not Rick, either because they thought the question was rhetorical or they were just too scared or nervous to speak up. And when no response came from the group on their knees, Negan leaned forward toward Rick and dramatically held a hand to his ear as if he were hard of hearing.

"What, no answer?" Running a hand over his mouth, Negan looked considerably amused. Taking a few steps back, he looked around at everyone. "You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don't want to kill you people. I want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're fucking dead, now, can you? I'm not growing a garden. But you killed my people, a whole fucking damn shitload of them. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna fucking pay. So, now I'm gonna beat the holy fuck fucking fuckety _fuck_ outta one of you. This," he gestured to his bat which was wrapped with barbed wire, "this is Lucille, and she is _awesome_. All this…all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor." Letting his eyes scan everyone's faces again, he smirked when he turned toward Abraham and watched the way the muscular redhead stood tall and stalwart on his knees. "Huh."

He seemed a bit impressed with just how not bothered Abraham seemed; like a captain more than ready to go down with his ship. Someone who would take a beating and then say thank you afterward. Abraham was someone Negan could probably see as one of his crew, had this situation been different or had they all met under different circumstances. Narrowing his eyes, he looked at Abraham and then at Georgie; glancing between them a few times. Taking Lucille, he brushed it gently against Georgie's ginger locks and chuckled.

"You two related?"

Georgie couldn't bring herself to look up at Negan, let alone answer him. She began to shake slightly as the bat neared her face. The fear she felt in regard to what this man had planned for one of them had completely forced her to ignore the pain in her thigh.

Looking away from the pair, Negan instead glanced in the opposite direction, down over at Carl and smirked. Walking over, he crouched down in front of the teen and picked up the gun that the head Savior had dropped there. "You got one of our guns. Whoa. Yeah. You got a lot of our guns." When he got no reaction except for a glare out of Carl, he added, "Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little." Again, he got no reaction out of Carl. Standing up, he sauntered back toward the right again. Giving Lucille a simple twirl, he turned and looked at Maggie. "Je_sus._ You look fucking shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now."

As Negan lifted Lucille up, Glenn darted forward.

"No! No!" Glenn shouted.

Dwight, holding Daryl's crossbow, knocked Glenn forward with a blow to his back.

"Stop it!" Maggie cried out, fresh tears springing from her eyes as her hands reached uselessly for her husband as Dwight pointed the crossbow at him.

Glenn, on his back now, just looked over at Maggie. "God—"

Glenn and Maggie weren't the only ones getting emotional now. Georgie, Eugene and Rick were struggling to keep their tears at bay while Negan threw his weight around. The fear they all had for themselves and each other was mounting, moment by moment.

Tears stung eyes, chins quivered, nostrils flared, and shaky breaths were inhaled and exhaled.

"Nope," Negan muttered. "Nope. Get him back in line."

"No," Glenn grunted as Dwight dragged him back to where he'd been previously kneeling. "No. No. Don't."

"Alright, listen. Don't _any_ of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get it," Negan smiled, pointing at Glenn. He then turned and looked back at Rick. "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit." Continuing to smile, he glanced down the line toward Carl and pointed his bat in his direction. "This is your kid, right?" Stepping over toward the teen, Negan chuckled. "This is _definitely_ your kid."

"Just stop this!" Rick shouted.

"Hey!" Negan barked. "Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody. _Every_body's at the table waiting for me to order." He smirked and began to whistle. "I simply cannot decide." As he paced a moment or two, he suddenly stopped and turned to face the line again. "I got an idea."

He stepped forward, he pointed the end of the bat at Rick's face and then moved down the line to his left to point at each next person. "Eenie…meenie…miney…mo. Catch...a tiger…by…his toe." Finished with the left, he began to move toward the right, each person getting a turn with the bat pointed in their face. "If…he hollers…let him go." He began to point randomly next. He could just feel their fear emanating off them like an expensive and fragrant perfume. "My mother…told me…to pick…the very…best…one…and…you…are…it."

Rick turned his head to his right and saw Negan pointing his bat, but he couldn't quite determine which person. From where he was kneeling, it looked more like Lucille was aimed between two different people instead of just one which made Rick anxious. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest right there. He prayed to a God he barely believed existed, nor acknowledged anymore. He prayed to God to stop this, to do anything to prevent it from happening.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start," Negan spoke. "You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. _Hell_, you're all gonna be doing that."

Without warning, Negan lifted Lucille up and swung down hard, making instant contact that was paired with the sickening crunch of skull bone as everyone screamed.


	39. Everything's Changing

**Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update. Part of it had to do the with holidays, but mostly I was just dreading having to revisit my grief over the losses of two of our beloved characters that I just didn't _want_ to write it. But, here I am again, and hopefully I can get to the next hurdle now. As always, please _R&amp;R!_**

_**xoxo - Holly**_

* * *

_"_Everything changes and, somewhere along the line, I'm changing with it." __— Eric Burdon

* * *

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. _Hell_, you're all gonna be doing that."

All Rick heard, without having to see it happen, was the initial, sickening thud of someone's head being struck with the bat. The shocked gasps and sobs beginning to escape everyone's lips were making the situation they were all in that much more real. The nightmare of the world they lived in just got that much worse. Because of where Rick was kneeling, further down the line from where Georgie ended up, he had been unable to tell if Negan had stopped and chosen her or Abraham since the two had been kneeling closely beside each other. However, when the bat came down and Abraham dropped forward, a part of Rick sighed a breath of relief, while the other part of him felt like it was dying. Because, while his girlfriend was safe, his friend was being murdered and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

After the first swing knocked Abraham down flat on his stomach, he somehow found it in him to pull himself back up as blood began pouring down the front of his face from his scalp.

"Oh! Look at that! Taking it like a champ!" Negan bellowed excitedly.

"Suck…my…nuts," Abraham managed to speak.

Georgie was hunched forward, keeping herself up by bracing her hands on the ground, much like Rosita. Kneeling upright was too painful and this position for her was the only thing to alleviate that. She was turning to her left, watching Abraham as tears burned at her eyes and blazed a path down her face. She wanted to reach out to him and pull him back toward her, to somehow stop all of this. If Negan just stopped now, Abraham could be fine. They could take him to Hilltop and get Dr. Carson to give him some medication and stitch him up, she was sure. Or, at least, that was what she hoped. Abraham was like this big brother to her and now she had to watch someone else she cared about get brutally killed right in front of her eyes.

The second swing of the bat came down hard on Abraham's head and then so was his entire body as he fell forward onto the flat of his stomach again. He didn't move after that. Each swing came from Lucille in rapid, bludgeoning succession; utterly destroying the ginger-haired man's head to the point where it was impossible to tell what color hair he'd ever had.

Georgie cried out, shaking and crying like those around her; watching as the bloody decimation before her. When Negan was finished, he turned slightly away from the others, staggering slightly like a drunk. Blood dripped from the end of Lucille and Georgie found it was easier to stare at the bat than at Abraham.

"D'you hear that?" Negan chuckled. "He said, _'suck my nuts.'_" Without warning, he hauled off and began to strike down against what was left of Abraham's head about a dozen more times.

Georgie closed her eyes, but she couldn't drown out the crunching sound the bat made against the mix of blood, skull bone and brain matter.

"Oh, my goodness! Look at this!" Negan held up Lucille, inspecting how much more coated it had become with Abraham's blood. With a chuckle, he gave it a slight swing in Rick's direction and some of the blood splattered across the right side of Rick's face. "You guys, look at my dirty girl! Sweetheart, lay your eyes on this."

He was holding the bat in front of Georgie's face now. She could sense it inches away, but she chose to keep her eyes closed even then. Her chin quivered and when she began to open her eyes anyway, she briefly glimpsed Abraham's body and fresh tears began to fall. Negan took a step forward and touched her hair with his free hand which caused her to noticeably tense up.

Backing up, Negan frowned. "Oh, damn. Were you—was he your brother? That sucks. But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red—and hell, he was, is, and will ever be red. He just took one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look." The blood was dripping from Lucille, but Georgie still refused. So, when she instead closed her eyes again and fresh tears began to run down her cheeks, Negan growled at her. "Take a damn look!"

With a grunt, Daryl threw the blanket around him off his shoulders. Within seconds he was on his feet and swung his fist, successfully connecting it with Negan's jaw. While he kept trying to reach for Negan, Daryl was quickly apprehended by one of the many Saviors standing idly by, and then a second to assist.

Negan smiled faintly, as if he was impressed by the insurrection and then charged forward a bit, aiming the end of his bat down at Daryl. "No! Oh no." Taking a few steps back and spinning subtly around like some sort of showman, Negan chuckled again. "That? Oh, my! That is a no-no. The whole thing; not one bit of that shit flies here." He crouched down beside Daryl who was being held down upon the ground and kept the blood-soaked end of Lucille close to Daryl's face.

The Savior with the burn mark on the side of his face – Dwight – came hurrying up, holding Daryl's crossbow and wearing Daryl's leather vest with the angel wings. He aimed the crossbow at Daryl and one of the Saviors pinning Daryl down got out of the way.

"Do you want me to do it?" Dwight asked. "Right here."

Georgie's eyes were open again at that point and watching what she believed to be Daryl's last moments in this world. Her chin was quivering so much that her teeth were beginning to clack rapidly together as if she were cold.

Negan gripped a handful of Daryl's hair that had been covering his eyes, causing Daryl to grunt in pain. "No," Negan spoke to Dwight. "No, you don't kill them, not until you try a little." As Dwight and the other two Saviors dragged Daryl back into line, Negan stood back up. "And anyway, that's not how it works. Now, I already told you people — first one's free — then what'd I say? I said I would _shut that shit down!_ No exceptions. Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with but I'm a man of my word." He cast an eye down toward Rick, and then back over toward Daryl. "First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So…back to it."

Without warning, Negan raised Lucille and spun around so quickly there was no time for anyone to prepare for when he suddenly brought the bat down upon Glenn's head.

Blood seemed to spray immediately from the wound Negan had just created and Glenn dropped forward like a sack of potatoes. Poor Maggie, who was already weak from whatever was ailing her, let out a heart-wrenching sob as she was forced to watch her husband, the father of their unborn child, meet the same fate as Abraham. Everyone else seemed to gasp in sheer horror at what was now happening.

Upon a second whack, Maggie cried out, "No!" and it was the most agonizing exclamation any of them had ever heard. They all loved both Abraham and Glenn, but Maggie had loved Glenn the most and shared the deepest connection with him. He was her other half and now she was losing that forever.

Slowly, Glenn found the willpower to pull himself upward. The top of his head was concaved, blood covered his face and his left eye was popped halfway out of his skull. He was groaning and gasping to breathe and speak when he turned toward Maggie. There was no chance for him now. Even if Negan stopped there, Glenn would not survive that injury.

"Buddy, you still there?" Negan inquired, leaning in and very obviously amused. Glenn was sputtering; his brain severely damaged at this point, but he was trying to communicate to Maggie regardless. "I just don't know. It seems like you're trying to speak, but you just took a _hell_ of a hit. I just popped your skull so hard, your eyeball just _popped_ out, and it is gross as shit!"

"Maggie, I—I'll find you…" Glenn finally managed to say.

She was sobbing, trying not to break eye contact with him.

Everyone was sobbing. They all found it hard to see Glenn like this, but they didn't want to look away and let him die with their heads turned away from him.

"Oh. Oh, hell," Negan muttered, giving the impression that he actually felt bad about what he was doing. "I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry. I truly am. But I _did_ say it. No exceptions!"

And with that, he struck Glenn's head again. And again. And again. And again.

It almost seemed like it was going on forever.

"You bunch of pussies," Negan taunted. "I'm just getting started." With each blow, there was no doubting Glenn was already dead, even though his left hand was twitching; likely the last ditch effort from his nerve endings. "Lucille is thirsty. She's a _vampire_ bat." Amused at his lame joke, Negan finally stopped and walked over before coming to a stop in front of Rick. "What? Was the joke that bad?"

Slowly, Rick lifted his head and looked up at Negan. "I'm gonna kill you," he spoke, his voice raspy.

Negan stepped forward and crouched down. Lucille, covered in blood and a piece of Glenn's scalp stuck to it, was very close to Rick's face. "What? I didn't quite catch that. You're gonna have to speak up."

Rick looked down, adjusting himself on the ground and then brought his gaze directly up at Negan's face, maintaining eye contact. "Not today, not tomorrow…but I'm gonna kill you."

Negan stared back, considering those words and smiling a bit as he inhaled sharply to the point that it almost sounded like a low and faint whistle. "Jesus," he chuckled. "Simon…what did he have, a knife?"

"Uh, he had a hatchet," Simon replied from behind Rick.

Clearly amused, and as in disbelief, Negan questioned this. "A hatchet?"

"He had an axe."

Negan smiled more noticeably, chuckled and licked his lips as he brought his gaze away from the Savior and back down to Rick. "Simon's my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without 'em? A _whole lot_ _of work_. Do you have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh. Or did I—" Waving Lucille slightly in front of Rick's face, he clicked his tongue. As Rick glared up at him and clenched his jaw, Negan sighed. "Sure. Yeah. Give me his axe."

The sound of footsteps followed as Simon handed Rick's hatchet to Negan, who took it and held it up while studying Rick's face for what felt like ages. Inhaling deeply, he stood up and slid the hatchet under his belt to keep it in place.

"I'll be right back," he announced, grabbing Rick by the collar of his jacket and dragging him forward without hesitation while Rick was scrambling to try and stand, all to no avail. "Maybe Rick will be with me. And if not, well, we can just turn these people inside out, won't we?"

Georgie gasped out, and began to cry all over again, for the fear of losing Rick on top of everything. And all she could do is stay there in line with everyone else, watching as Rick twisted around, fumbling to right himself while Negan continued to drag him forward toward the RV.

"I mean, the ones that are left," Negan continued, shoving Rick inside the RV through the opened door like a ragdoll. As he climbed in after, he slammed the door shut and everyone was left just sitting or kneeling where they were, surrounded by all those Saviors, and sobbing.

Georgie's mind was running wild, thinking of what was going to happen in that RV, when the engine sputtered a few times but didn't seem to be turning over. After a moment, there seemed to be some sort of sudden movement inside the vehicle, but everyone outside was blind to what exactly had just happened and that made it harder for Carl and Georgie especially; not knowing if his father and the man she loved had just been injured or worse; killed. Less than a minute later filled with stillness, the RV shook slightly again and a muffled grunt could be heard.

Georgie was imagining the worse.

When the engine suddenly revved and came to life, the RV lurched slightly and then began to drive off, just as the faint light of sunrise was reaching up from the ground beyond the trees, giving hint to the new day that was officially beginning.

And what a horrible way the day had begun.

* * *

The sun eventually had risen high enough that the flood lights were deemed unnecessary and the Saviors had begun turning them off and packing them up while the rest remained in position, keeping guard around the rest of Rick's group. It could've been minutes, an hour, maybe two. The passing of time was difficult to discern as they all sat there, slumped forward; lost in their grief and fear, waiting to see if Negan would ever return with Rick. In the meantime, all they wanted to do was hold onto one another, but they still weren't allowed to move. When Aaron had made the simplest move toward Sasha, simply to place a hand upon her shoulder, a Savior had barked at him to sit still unless he wanted a hole in the back of his head.

Soon enough, the RV appeared on the dirt road and came to a stop in the same spot it had been parked earlier. After a minute or two, the door was thrown open and Rick was tossed out onto the ground with his hatchet in hand. For the briefest of moments, Georgie feared that how limply he'd fallen out meant he was dead, but then Rick had let out a grunt of breath and that fear subsided, but not completely.

Out walked Negan, joining everyone once again. Like before, he grabbed Rick by the collar of his jacket and dragged him forward as Rick struggled to gain any traction and merely walk on his own. Negan brought him in front of the others and dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and then smiled at everyone.

"Here we are," Negan announced. "Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you even know what that little trip was about?"

Rick climbed up onto his hands and knees and scanned everyone's face as he appeared to still be struggling to grasp everything that had transpire over the course of the last few hours.

"Speak when you're spoken to," Negan demanded.

"Okay. Okay."

"That trip was about the way you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand," Negan continued as Rick turned his head and looked up at him. "But you're _still_ looking at me the same _fucking_ way, like I _shit_ in your scrambled eggs, and _that's_ not gonna fucking work. So…" He crouched down beside Rick. "Do I give you another chance?"

Shaking and breathing raggedly, Rick nodded; keeping his head down. "Yeah. Yeah. _Yes_."

Negan patted Rick on the back and stood up. "Okay. Alright. And here it is — the fucking grand prize game. What you do next will decided whether your shit day becomes everyone's _last_ shit day or just _another_ shit day. Get some guns to the back of their heads."

Without any hesitation, Saviors stepped up behind the rest of Rick's ground and pointed the barrels of their respective guns to the back of everyone's heads as ordered.

"Good. Now, level with their noses so if you have to fire—" Negan mimicked the sound of an explosion paired with the gesture of the front of his face bursting. "It'll be a _real_ mess."

Rick looked up, glancing over at Georgie; guilt upon his face for leading everyone to this. He couldn't stand the grief and fear in her eyes, so he looked back toward the ground.

"Kid, right here."

Rick looked up and over toward his son and felt his heart beating so hard and fast it was resonating in his ears.

_Leave my son out of this!_ he wanted to scream out loud.

"Kid, now." Slowly and defiantly, Carl stood up and walked forward as Negan slipped his belt off. "You a southpaw?"

"Am I a what?" Carl questioned; attitude oozing from his voice.

"You a lefty?"

"No."

"Good," Negan remarked and proceeded to tie the belt around Carl's left arm and pulled tight as everyone looked on nervously. "That hurt?"

"No."

"Should. It's supposed to. Alright. Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings." Grabbing Carl's hat, he took it and tossed it over his shoulder before guiding Carl, roughly, down to the ground to lay upon his stomach. "Simon…you got a pen?"

"Yeah."

The Savior pulled a black Sharpie out of his pants pocket and tossed it across to Negan who caught it with little to no effort. Removing the cap with his teeth, Negan grunted as he knelt down beside Carl and proceeded to roll the teenager's shirt sleeve up.

"Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and _dragging_ it _right_ across the forearm," he rambled, drawing a line across Carl's arm, just below the elbow. "Gives you a little leverage."

"Please." Rick seemed to understand what was going on all at once. "Please, please don't," he begged; shaking his head and looking up at Negan.

"Me?" Negan chuckled and gave a slight shake of his own head. "I ain't doing shit." Standing up, he gripped Lucille in his left hand and gestured to Rick with his right. "Rick, I want you to take your axe, cut your son's left arm off, right on that line. Now, I know — I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or _all_ these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die, and then you, _eventually_. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can _stew_ on it."

"You—you don't have to do this. We understand. We understand," Michonne began to plead with tears in her eyes.

Negan looked over at her. "_You_ understand. Yeah. I'm not sure that _Rick_ does," he replied with a grin while Rick already looked traumatized by what was being asked — or rather, _demanded_ — of him. "I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice — nothing messy, clean, forty-five degrees — give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine. Probably." He smiled grinned again; enjoying this way too much. "Rick," he lowered his voice and crouched down, "this needs to happen now — chop, chop —or I will crush the little fella's skull myself."

"It can—it can—it can be me. It can be me," Rick began to bargain. "W-w—" He stuttered and sniffled. "Y-you can do it to me. I ca—I can go with—with you."

"No. This is the only way," Negan solemnly denied and stood up. "Rick pick up the axe. Not making a decision is a _big_ _fucking _decision," he added when Rick hesitated. "You _really_ want to see all these people die? You _will_. You will see _every_-_fucking_-_thing_." Off the onset of Rick's panicked sobs, Negan rolled his eyes. "Oh, my God. Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win._ I am counting_. Three!"

"_Please, please,_" Rick sobbed. "It can be me. _Please!_"

"Two!"

"Please, don't do—"

Negan crouched back down and slapped Rick and then grabbed his face in his hands to make sure he had Rick's full attention. "This is it," he muttered and guided Rick's face toward his son's arm.

"_Ahh!_" Rick cried out in anguish.

Georgie sat there, several feet away with her hands covering her mouth to muffle her sobs as best as she could. The tears that burned her eyes were nowhere near as terrible as the tightness in her chest as she began to prepare herself to watch the man she loved forced to dismember his own son for the sake of all their lives being spared. She grit her teeth, unable the sheer terror both father and son must be feeling in this very moment.

"One!" Negan shouted.

Rick took hold of Carl's hand and gripped his hatchet as he continued with his utterly heartbreaking sobs. Carl appeared quite still and seemed resigned to his fate, whispering words only Rick seemed to hear. Whatever was said was enough to give Rick the balls he needed to do this horrible thing. Raising the hatchet up, his sobs became more panicked as he began to aim the blade for the line on Carl's arm. But then Negan tapped the hand Rick was using to hold the hatchet and once again crouched down beside him. Rick, confused, just looked over his shoulder at Negan, and paused.

"Rick. You answer to me. You provide for me," he spoke as Rick began to nod. "You _belong_ to me. Right?"

Rick nodded his head more adamantly and hunched forward toward the ground, looking down at it.

"You fucking _speak_ when you're spoken to!" Negan shouted, grabbing Rick's face in his hands and forcing eye contact. "You _answer_ to _me_. You _provide_ for _me_."

"Provide for you," Rick mumbled.

"You belong to me, _right_?!"

Breathing heavily, Rick nodded. "Right."

"Fucking _right_." Removing his hands from Rick's face, he pointed at him. "_That_ is the look I wanted to see." Standing up, Negan leaned over merely to grab the hatchet up. "We did it, all of us, together. Even the dead guys on the ground. _Fuck_, they get the spirit award, for _sure_. Today was a _productive_ _fucking_ _day_! Now, I hope, for all your sake…that you get it now; that you _understand_ how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you _had_ going for you — _that_ is over now. Ah. Dwight!" Negan smiled and gestured to Daryl with Lucille. "Load him up."

Everyone turned and watched as Dwight grabbed Daryl and dragged him over to the van Daryl, Michonne, Rosita and Glenn had originally been pulled out of when the others first reached the clearing and were made to kneel. Though Daryl struggled, he was still shoved into the back of the van while Maggie sobbed for him. Dwight lifted the crossbow up and aimed it at Daryl to keep him at bay until another of the Saviors closed the doors.

Negan crouched back down beside Rick. "He's got guts — not a little _bitch_ like someone I know. I like him. He's _mine_ now. But you still want to try something? 'Not today, not tomorrow.' '_Not today, not tomorrow'?_ I will cut pieces off of…" Negan trailed, looking over at Simon. "Hell's his name?"

"Daryl."

"_Wow_," Negan chuckled. "That actually sounds right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep—_or_, better yet, I will bring him to you and have _you_ do it _for_ me." Negan chuckled again and stood up while giving Rick a few pats to the back. "Ah! Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry fucks! I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the shit you're gonna find me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week," he informed, tossing Rick's hatchet over his shoulder, which bounced when it hit the ground. "Until then, ta-ta."

And, like that, The Saviors began to leave.

No one paid attention to which vehicle in particular Negan left in.

It didn't matter at this point.

It's not like anyone in Rick's group could follow after and retaliate without losing all their lives.

The Saviors loaded up into all their vehicles, and began driving off, one by one. Dirt was stirred, causing some dust clouds which seemed to envelope around Rick's group while there was one Savior who found the need to take Polaroid pictures of what was left of Abraham and Glenn's heads.

Rick's group just sat there in silence; lost in thought, lost in grief, lost in guilt, and lost in the dread of what their lives would be like now.

When the last of the Saviors' vehicles had gone, suddenly the only sound was that of insects chirping in the woods surrounding them.

Slowly, Maggie began to pull herself up to her feet.

"Maggie…Maggie," Rick called to her as she sobbed and staggered over toward Glenn's body. "Maggie, you need to sit down. Maggie."

"No."

Rick stood up and reached for her. "We need to get you to the Hilltop."

"You need to go get ready," she parried.

"For what?"

"To fight them."

"They have Daryl. They have an army. We would die — all of us."

"Go home," she barked, breathing heavily. Take everybody with you. I can get there by myself."

Rick reached for her again; this time touching her arm ever so faintly. "You can barely stand up."

"I need to go," she pleaded in between sobs. "You need to go to Alexandria. You were out—out here for me."

"We still are," Georgie assured from where she still sat on the ground.

As she began to sob hard, Maggie turned and looked around at Rick and the others. "I can make it now. I need you to go back. I can't have you out here. I can't have you all out here anymore. I need you to go back."

"Maggie," Michonne whispered, slowly approaching. "We're not letting you go. Okay?"

"You have to," she sighed.

"It's not gonna happen," Rick insisted with a shake of his head.

Sasha stood up then and walked up to Maggie. "I'm taking her," she quietly announced. "I'm gonna get her there. I'm gonna keep her safe. I'm not giving you a choice."

Maggie seemed to nod and accept this as she turned and briefly touched her forehead against Sasha's. "I'm taking him with me," she insisted, looking back toward Glenn's body.

Georgie was fumbling to stand up, wincing in pain from her gunshot wound in the process as Aaron came over and helped her; giving her his arm to lean on. Once she was upright enough, he moved over toward Maggie and crouched down beside her at Glenn's body. Georgie turned her attention toward Rick, who looked back at her as if sensing her eyes like heat-seeking lasers.

With the most dejected expression, he moved over toward her and pulled her into his arms for a brief hug. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Are _you_?"

After a moment, he replied, "No." Wrapping an arm around her waist, he let her use him as a crutch as they walked over toward Maggie.

"I need to do this," the newly widowed brunette sniffled. "Please."

"We need to help you," Aaron insisted.

Carl walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I got it. I got it," he muttered soothingly.

"No. No."

"Pl—pl—please let us," Rick spoke like everyone else; his voice barely above a whisper. "He—he's our family—he's our family, too."

Maggie nodded, giving in, and began to sob again.

As Eugene walked over to help Sasha and Rosita life Abraham's body, Maggie stood up and turned immediately into Carl's awaiting arms to cry very briefly on his shoulder. When she stepped back Rick stepped back from Georgie and more or less passed off his crutch duties to a willing Michonne, who sidled up beside Georgie and helped her walk onward toward the RV. Rick then crouched down with Aaron and Carl; the three males lifting Glenn's body up off the ground, while Maggie just stood there alone, sobbing into her hands.

Once both bodies were loaded up into the RV, laid out on the separate twin beds in the back, Maggie had finally made her way into the RV while Rick went back to grab up his hatchet; the only weapon left to him now that his trusty, ol' Python had been taken by the Saviors.

It was like the end of an era, all the way around.

Before he climbed up into the vehicle, a shirtless walker wandered out of the woods, but Rick merely looked around with no intent to kill it. After all, in this new world, the living were far more dangerous than the dead.

Without another look, Rick stepped up into the RV and shut the door behind him. He made eye contact with no one; not even his son or Georgie. He sat down in the driver's seat, previously occupied by Abraham that evening before, when they still had hope that things would be okay.

Turning the key still in the ignition, the engine came to life without hesitation. Turning to look out the passenger window, Rick saw the walker staggering closer as he began to drive the RV forward onto the road. On a second glance, this time into the side mirror on the passenger's side, he saw the walker had dropped down to its knees and was about to eat the bloody, brain matter that was left behind and had belonged to either Glenn or Abraham.

With tears stinging his eyes and sweat rolling down his face, Rick tried to maintain focus on the road ahead and they drove off toward Hilltop.

* * *

"You're gonna be right as rain," Dr. Carson remarked, finishing the last of the stitches on Georgie's leg he was redoing; after determining that, while Aaron's quick sew job wasn't bad, it wasn't great either.

He had sterilized it and given her something for the pain. When he insisted on giving her something extra to take with her back to Alexandria to manage the pain further, Georgie denied it; telling him to keep it for some Hilltopper who might need it at a later date. Alexandria had their own supply of meds she could see herself to. Dr. Carson had even offered her an actual crutch to use, but she turned that down as well but thanked him nevertheless for the offer. She didn't want to be too unkind after he'd properly tended to her wound.

When she hobbled out of his medical trailer, Rick was waiting for her outside; offering her a hand as she stepped down the couple of stairs that were present.

Maggie had been tended to first when they arrived and passed out almost immediately and was left to lie down in a bed in the medical trailer, all while Georgie had been only a few feet away, being tended to next. Rick's group had been informed that Maggie had suffered Abruptio Placentae, a separation of the placenta from the uterus, but that her baby would be fine.

"Is Maggie still asleep in there?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," Georgie nodded. "Carson thinks it best if she stays here for a while to recuperate and I agree. She needs the medical care he can give her here that we can't back in Alexandria, and if something goes wrong, I don't think lightning will strike twice and let us get her here in time. Despite, what we've just lost, we were lucky she made it through." She was just standing there, looking up at Rick, who was looking down at the ground between them and still seemed shaken to the core about everything, and justifiably so. "We need to get home, though. Everybody needs to know what happened. We need to prepare for what happens next."

Rick nodded in agreement. "I know," he replied; his voice small.

Seeing him this broken made losing Glenn and Abraham the way they did even worse.

If a strong and capable man like Rick could be broken down and weakened like this, how did any of the rest of them stand a chance to — hopefully — someday retaliate against Negan and The Saviors?

"Jesus said he has a spot for us to bury Glenn and Abe," Rick muttered, almost as if he were distracted by a very difficult math problem. "It won't be ideal to bring them all the way back to Alexandria with us. Jesus also said he has some extra fuel to help us get home."

"Okay. We'll do that. We'll bury them, we'll top off our gas tank, and then we'll go home," Georgie agreed. "We'll come back in a week, after that monster comes to take supplies from us. Once he's gone back to whatever hellhole he calls home, we'll come back here and bring Maggie home, as long as she's doing better and Carson thinks she'll be okay."

Rick nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

Slowly, he leaned his head forward and pressed his forehead to hers. After a few moments, when he leaned back, he studied her face and frowned. Bringing his right hand up, he rubbed dried blood off of her left cheek with his thumb. He knew it belonged to Abraham. She'd been kneeling right beside him when he'd been killed. It made sense she'd have a considerable amount of splatter on her, and she did. Not just on her face, but also on her neck, her shirt, her hands and jeans. Rick still had his own splatter of Abraham's blood still dried across his right cheek, which Georgie felt the need to reciprocate the gesture in rubbing most of it off with her fingers. They stood there like that for a few more moments, like two monkeys grooming each other.

Turning at the glimpse of movement out the corners of their eyes, they both sighed when they saw a few Hilltoppers helping to carry Glenn and Abraham's bodies. Without a word, they began to follow in the same direction, but at a slow pace to accommodate Georgie's limp due to her gunshot wound. The medication given to her hadn't fully kicked in enough just yet to allow her to put her full weight on that leg.

Gregory seemed to be keeping a distance; with Jesus asking as unofficial liaison while helping Sasha, Aaron and Carl dig the two graves. Rick and Georgie had approached when the graves were already halfway dug, and it appeared the graves wouldn't be too deep; just deep enough.

When the graves were finished being dug, the bodies were wrapped in bed sheets, which were quickly being soaked through with blood from underneath where the remains of Glenn's and Abraham's heads were. The others tried not to focus on that and merely on the bodies being lowered into the graves.

"Does anyone want to say anything?" Aaron asked.

"What is there _to_ say?" Rosita questioned; her face sad and angry at the same time.

"Glenn and Abraham were our friends," Rick spoke, ignoring Rosita's comment. "They were our family. Our brothers. They fought for us, protected us, cared about all of us. Countless times they risked their lives for us, but they…they always made it out alive. Until today. Everything's changing. They should still be here, but they aren't. We should be back in Alexandria, safe. But we aren't. Losing them is the nail in the coffin that none of us are safe anymore. We might not have the means to fight back right now, but we have to do whatever it takes now to live for them. We need to stay alive and protect our own now, for them. That's how we honor them, how we honor our dead; by living."

Rick chewed the inside of his cheek and then looked away from the graves. Grabbing one of the shovels, he proceeded in tossing the soil into Glenn's grave. Sasha followed his lead, taking another shovel and tossing soil into Abraham's grave, which Rosita helped with. Carl helped his father, taking the fourth and final shovel, to bury Glenn.

There were no crosses available but there were large stones nearby that Jesus gave and two long sticks that could be used to place at the heads of the graves as markers.

Afterward, Rick's group gathered by their RV, preparing to leave and return to Alexandria now that they had enough fuel in the RV. Gregory came out of the big house for that, but still kept his distance; waving politely while looking at them with slight disdain.

"Thank you for your help," Rick said to Jesus.

The younger man nodded. "I'm sorry things didn't work out the way we'd hoped. I'm sorry for your losses."

"A few of us will be back in a little over a week to get Maggie, as long as she's able to travel. Tell her we'll be back for her."

"I will."

"No," Sasha muttered. "_I_ will. I'm staying here to look after her. I said I'd keep her safe and I meant it. And…I don't think I'm ready to go back to Alexandria just yet anyway."

Rick looked at her and considered what she was saying before nodding with understanding. "Alright. You take care." Leaning in, Rick hugged Sasha goodbye. "We'll be back for you in a week, too."

Sasha smiled ever so faintly. "Okay."

The others took turns hugging Sasha and saying a temporary goodbye to her before gradually filing back into the RV. Jesus stood in the doorway and wished them safer travels home than it took for them to make it to Hilltop. Shutting the door for them, he stepped back from the vehicle and joined a few of his fellow Hilltoppers as the RV's engine sputtered to life after a moment.

Inside the RV, Rick sat in the driver's seat and Georgie had joined him in the passenger seat, and for a moment it reminded her of when the RV had stalled and they had to make a run for it home to Alexandria after they'd been trying to lead the herd of walkers away. It seemed like eons ago, already. So much had happened in the last two and a half months since. Carl and Eugene sat on one side of the table while Michonne and Aaron occupied the other side. Rosita chose to sit alone, across from them, on the sofa.

The drive was silent the entire time back to Alexandria.

Not one person spoke.

When they eventually did make it home, the RV sat idling just outside the gates to their community until Spencer pulled it open so they could pull in. Slowly, Rick careened the lengthy vehicle along the road to the right, passed the solar panels and then careened to the left, onto the road in front of the townhouses; bringing it to a stop just in front of the house the pantry was based out of. Turning off the ignition, Rick just sat there.

In fact, no one else made much of a move to get up and get out either.

They just sat there, mentally composing themselves for the people that would soon be bombarding them with questions about how it all went and where Glenn, Maggie, Abraham, Daryl and Sasha all were. The idea of have to explain that two out of the five had been brutally murdered was already draining.

Nevertheless, they soon found they couldn't sit inside the vehicle forever.

Aaron stood up first and walked over to the door. After opening it up and climbing out, he was greeted by Tobin first, and then it seemed the rest of the community was slowly coming out of the woodwork. Rosita got up next and walked out without a word to anyone as she continued up the road.

Before long, only Rick, Georgie and Carl were left. The three of them looked between each other and then at the opened door. Carl stood up and patted his father on the shoulder before turning and exiting. After letting their gazes follow after the boy, the couple turned their attention to one another.

"We gotta deal with this," Georgie muttered with slumped shoulders.

"I know."

Standing up, Rick made his way for the door first and then stepped down out of it, but waited there as Georgie got up more slowly and walked more slowly after him. Extending a hand, Rick helped her step down the same he did at the Hilltop medical trailer and then shut the RV door behind them.

"Hey, Rick, what happened? Is Maggie okay?" Tobin inquired, standing there patiently outside the RV with his hands in his pockets. "I see Michonne and Rosita are back. Where's the others?"

There was no beating around the bush, and Rick new Tobin was one of the few tolerable people he honestly liked in Alexandria. "The Saviors caught up to us. They took Daryl," Rick explained as he began to walk slowly up the road with Georgie. "Maggie's at Hilltop with Sasha. She's gonna be okay."

"And Glenn and Abraham?"

"Negan killed them."

Tobin stopped, stunned. "What?"

"I'll explain more of it later. I—I can't do this right now, okay?"

"Okay," Tobin nodded, sympathetically. As he watched Rick and Georgie continue to walk away from him. He called out, "Wait, Rick…"

Rick stopped, as did Georgie, and turned slightly but only looked back at Tobin with her peripheral vision. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about Glenn and Abraham; Glenn, especially. I know you two were like brothers."

Rick looked forward and at the ground. "He _was_ my brother."

Blood didn't always make family, after all.

Without saying anything further, Rick and Georgie resumed walking up the road, somehow managing to dodge any further questions from anyone else. When that were in the home stretch of reaching their house, Gabriel was walking up the road to meet them halfway, with Judith in his arms. He was smiling; relieved to see Rick and Georgie were alright, but then that smile faded when he saw the blood on them and their downtrodden expressions.

"Judith was fine," he assured for them. "She ate well and slept through the night without any problems. She was a perfect angel."

With a nod of appreciation, Rick reached out and took his daughter into his arms and she readily threw her much smaller arms around his neck; finding instant comfort in having her daddy home as she rested her head down upon his shoulder. Rick leaned into the gestured and closed his eyes; reveling in the moment of peace if offered him.

"Is it safe to assume not everything is fine beyond the walls for us?" Gabriel asked.

"That's the understatement of the year," Georgie muttered.

"Oh, Lord," he sighed. Looking down he noted the bloody hole in her jeans. "Were you shot?"

"Yeah. It's been taken care of. I'll live."

"Is Maggie—"

"I'll explain everything later," Rick interrupted, reiterating what he'd said to Tobin mere minutes before. "Just do me a favor and let everyone know there'll be a meeting in the church."

Gabriel nodded. "Of course. When?"

"Give us about two hours. Let us get home, shower and eat. We need some time before we get hit with too many questions about what's gonna be changing here."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It's far from good," Georgie assured.

Gabriel looked at her, and then back at Rick. "I'll get right on that then; on letting people know about the meeting that is."

Rick watched as the priest stepped past the couple and the little girl to make his way to each household and spread the word about the meeting without questioning the couple any further, and of that they were grateful. They were grateful for more than that, too, though.

"Gabriel," Rick spoke, drawing the other man's attention back to them.

"Yes, Rick?"

"Thank you for keeping Alexandria safe while we were gone. Thank you for keeping my daughter safe."

Gabriel smiled. "Any time." Without another word, he turned back around and continued on his way.

Looking upon Georgie, Rick sighed deeply and then began to walk home with her; finding that Carl had already made it there with Michonne, and both were waiting for the couple to show up before heading in themselves.

"Do you think we'll ever be okay; that we'll be safe?" Georgie asked him quietly, before they reached their front porch and were within earshot of Carl and Michonne.

Rick glanced at her again. "I hope so," he replied, sadly.


	40. Not Today, Not Tomorrow

**Author's Note: I rather enjoyed this chapter. Hope you do, too. As for the delay getting it out: holidays and I've been sick. As always, please _R&amp;R!_**

_**xoxo —Holly**_

* * *

"_Patience is not simply the ability to wait _— _it's how we behave while we're waiting." _— Joyce Meyer

* * *

Sleep during the course of the next three nights was somewhat of a joke. For Rick and Georgie, while they were plenty tired enough and comfortable enough in their bed, sleep was restless. It took sometimes upwards of two hours, just lying there, silently staring up at the ceiling while they waited for their minds to calm down so they could succumb to la-la land. Rick would wake up a few times a night, feeling like he was being watched. His tired eyes would pop open in a heartbeat and he'd lift his head just enough to peer around the darkness of the room to make sure they were alone. After all, if someone as unthreatening as Jesus could manage to slip in so easily, how much easier could it be for someone who meant them harm? Rick had to get up at least once a night anyway to use the bathroom; cursing himself for getting older, while simultaneously thankful he was one of the lucky ones who was able to still be alive to silently complain about getting up in the middle of the night, every night, to use the bathroom like some old man with the bladder the side of an acorn. Before he would allow himself to return to bed, Rick walked the upstairs hall, listening closely at each bedroom door to make sure everyone was sleeping soundly. He would then make the trek downstairs to make sure every window was shut and every door was locked. When he was certain nothing was amiss, he would head back upstairs, listen in at the bedroom doors again one more time and then return to bed.

By the time his head would hit the pillow and he was just beginning to truly drift off to sleep once more, Georgie would wake up with a terrified yelp and tears streaking down her face. He first night, she'd whacked Rick pretty good in the side of his face, by his left eye, when he'd woken up with her and tried to calm her down; to assure her she was just having a bad dream.

For Georgie, though, the nightmare had felt so real.

While she slept, her mind tortured her with the Abraham and Glenn's deaths, and then the deaths of her children were also sporadically thrown in; like salt in a wound. Reliving the memories of seeing bloody chunk missing from her daughter's neck as she died in her arms, having to shoot her own son in the head as to spare him the agony of being eaten alive by walkers, Abraham's blood splattering on her as his head was beaten to a pulp, and the same with Glenn, but with the added trauma of his left eye popped halfway out of his skull as he struggled to speak to Maggie. Every night, those key deaths played over and over in her mind. Losing those people she cared about, witnessing their deaths or the mercy killer, in her son's case, was growing to be unbearable. All that death, all that horror; she wished to no end for it to just stop. What was even worse was the nightmares getting muddled; forcing her to dream about her children get beaten to death by Negan instead of how they actually died, or dreaming about Rick or herself dying via Lucille.

The first night, after they'd returned to Alexandria, she had woken from a nightmare where she thought she'd been bludgeoned to death. She'd woken up with a scream, clamping her hands upon her forehead and hunching forward. The nightmare had felt so real, that she swore her head was throbbing in pain from being struck by something. As Rick woke with her, holding her against him as he calmed her down and reassured her that "whatever it was, it was just a nightmare," the ache in her head didn't immediately go away. Rick had gotten up and went to grab some Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs. He came back and handed both the pills and the glass over to Georgie. As she knocked the pills back with one gulp of water, Rick said it was probably just a tension headache, and that it would pass with sleep.

It did pass, but only for a few hours. Once they were both up for the day and trying to figure out how to go about their lives now, Georgie's headache returned and lingered over the course of the day. She did what she could to conceal it, not wanting to use up any more Ibuprofen; knowing someone might need it for something more serious down the line. They had ice in the freezer she could wrap in a towel and press to her forehead if she needed to.

What helped was focusing her attention on Judith, who was both blissfully unaware of the traumas her family had witnessed and yet very receptive at sensing something was wrong. Her father and brother were solemn and quiet, and that made Judith irritable and fussy for Georgie while she fed her, or bathed her, dressed her or tried playing with her. Fresh air, taking walks around the roads within Alexandria seemed to be the only thing that calmed Judith, whereas Georgie found it made _her_ irritable and fussy.

Georgie knew that by leaving the house, she'd be forced to endure seeing other people and socialize with them to some extent. But she didn't want to socialize. She wanted to stay at home with the shades drawn and hide away in her grief while cuddling Judith. And she couldn't even get cuddles either. Maybe it was because the child was just sensitive to the moods around her or maybe it was just growing pains but, if it wasn't Rick, she didn't want to be cuddled by anyone. Not even her own big brother.

What Georgie could've really used was Carol.

She wished Carol was there so she could just talk to her. Maybe even hug her. Georgie missed Carol, terribly, especially now. She'd become her best friend and now she was gone. She didn't want to allow the thought, but Georgie had more or less resigned herself to believing Carol was likely dead now. Carol had never been alone in this world before. The longest she'd been alone was maybe an hour or two after Rick figuratively kicked her to the curb after what she'd done at the prison, just before she found Georgie on the road. Carol had been gone four days now. Her chances at being alive were pretty slim. It was just easier to believe she was dead instead of alive out there, having run away from the people who loved her in Alexandria.

In a way, Georgie was kind of jealous. Carol was oblivious to everything that had happened in that clearing with Negan. She didn't have to see any of that happen. She didn't have to hear the crunching of skull bone or wet sound of brain matter being pulverized. She didn't have to relive it in her dreams and nightmares.

Then again, maybe it wasn't just jealousy that Georgie felt in regard to Carol.

Maybe it was relief, too; relief that this was one less terrible thing that Carol would have to think about. If Carol never returned, that is. If she did, no doubt she would feel deep sadness and grief over the losses, the same as if she had been with the others at the clearing, too. Who's the say what is worse? Being present and not being able to do anything about preventing it, or not being present and the possibility that maybe there was a slim chance your presence _might've_ helped a little. Really, what was one extra person when there were probably a hundred or more of those Saviors? One more Alexandrian wouldn't have made a lick of difference. Hell, maybe Carol's presence would've altered their lineup and someone other than Abraham and Glenn might've been killed. If it had been Carol killed, for example, Daryl would've done more than just punch Negan and maybe more than two people would've joined that fate. Maybe they'd all be dead now.

Who's the say what would've happened, if any of it had been done or experienced differently?

Too much thinking on it was giving Georgie more of a terrible headache. Rick was right in that it was stress related, because it only felt worse whenever she let her mind linger and overthink back to the clearing; the what-ifs and just the event in general.

This third morning after returning to Alexandria, Georgie was up before Rick, who seemed to finally be getting some better rest and she didn't want to disturb him as she sat up to start her day.

She sat there at the edge of her side of the bed, gripping the mattress gently and staring at the floor while she mentally woke up a bit more and thought of all the things she needed to do. She'd taken a shower the night before, so she was good there. She heard no rustling sounds or whimpers over the baby monitor so Georgie knew Judith was still asleep in her little bedroom, but Georgie would take the monitor with her for when Judith did begin to stir; again, as not to disturb Rick. The man needed to sleep. Slowly standing up, she quietly stepped around the bed to Rick's side and grabbed the monitor off the nightstand and clipped it to the waistband of her pajama pants as she walked just as quietly out of their bedroom.

In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and pulled her bushy ginger locks back into a ponytail. The entire time she never looked at herself; not once. Whenever she glimpsed her reflection, all she saw was the color of her hair and that made her think instantly of Abraham, and then how Negan had mistakenly assumed he had been her brother.

In a sense, he had been. In her old life, with her actual family, she had been the oldest of four children; with one sister and two younger brothers, the youngest of whom had killed her daughter Avery after he'd died and turned into a walker, unbeknownst to Georgie. But Georgie had never had an older sibling. She'd never had anyone to look out for her and pick on her like a big brother or sister does. Not until she got to know Abraham better after they came to Alexandria. When she threw herself into helping with the construction crew after her son died, she'd bonded with her fellow redhead; a trait that was probably what first endeared Georgie to Abraham as it were. It had really only been recently that he'd started referring to her as Little Red to his Big Red and she had enjoyed it. When she was in the throes of her grief and didn't want to talk about it, Abraham didn't seem to give the impression that he wanted to get her to open up like Rick or Carol did. He would talk to her like one of the guys, making dirty jokes that took her mind off the shit show the world had become and she appreciated him for that.

Abraham might not have been her brother by blood, but none of these people in Alexandria that she loved and cared about were her family by blood. For that, Georgie would always think of him now as her brother. As Georgie walked downstairs to start a pot of coffee, she decided that if anyone asked about family she'd lost, she would now extend the role of older brother to Abraham.

One of the few good things in this world nowadays: you really could choose your family.

Just as she turned the corner into the kitchen, after coming down off the last step, Michonne's bedroom door opened up.

Both women stopped and stared silently at each other for a moment, almost as if they were sizing each other up. Instead, they smiled sadly at each other; obvious both their minds were still equally plagued by the same tragedies. While Georgie turned her attention to making her way to the coffee pot with which she would fill with water, Michonne was tossing her katana in its scabbard over her shoulder and carrying a duffel bag into the living room. While the water ran from the tap, Georgie let her gaze wonder over toward Michonne and saw her hunched down in front of the fireplace. Curiosity had finally gotten the best of Georgie, so she set the pot down on the counter, delaying that task for the moment while she walked over with her hands on her hips and a curious raise of her eyebrow.

"What's up?" Georgie questioned in a low voice.

"Going out," was the short response. Michonne didn't even look back to answer. Instead, she seemed to be struggling to pull something down from inside the chimney.

"Out where?"

"Out."

Georgie moved her arms to fold them across her chest as Michonne withdrew a rifle and tried slipping it into the duffel bag as quietly and discreetly as possible. "Whatever you do out there, don't get yourself killed."

Zipping the duffel bag closed, Michonne stayed silent. Standing back up, she lifted the bag by its vinyl handles and walked toward Georgie, as quiet as the grave, stopping mere inches away. Leaning in ever so slightly, Georgie could just barely feel Michonne's breath on her face.

"Don't tell Rick where I've gone. Please."

"How can I tell him?" Georgie shrugged. "I don't know where you're going."

Michonne made eye contact with Georgie. "Target practice," she admitted in a whisper. "Guns aren't my forte. I need to get better with one."

Georgie almost snickered. "You think we're gonna be able to fight back, don't you?" With a heavy sigh, she cast her eyes downward. "I wish I had that kind of optimism."

"Just don't tell Rick. Okay?"

"I won't give him any details. If he asks where you went, I'll tell him you went outside the walls to blow off steam by killing walkers in the woods. Or I'll just say you were already gone when I woke up," Georgie remarked. "It might've been better for you not to tell me anything at all. Plausible deniability and all that."

While Michonne didn't smile in the slightest, there seemed to be somewhat of a smirk in her eyes; a smirk of appreciation or maybe even amusement. It was hard to tell with her sometimes.

"Just be careful," she added, stepping backward toward where she left the coffee pot. "We've met our quota on loss for the year, I think."

"That's why I'm doing this."

Turning fully away, Georgie reached for the pot and lifted it up. Before she could even look back at Michonne, or say anything else, she heard the front door clicking open and then closed, signifying she was now alone downstairs because Michonne had left.

Once the coffee had been scooped out of the can and into the filter and the machine was percolating, Georgie removed the baby monitor from her hip and held it up to watch Judith as she moved around. The rustling noises Georgie had heard from the monitor got her thinking that the toddler was beginning to wake up, but Judith was simply finding a new position to continue sleeping in.

Instead of setting the monitor down on the counter, she held it in her hands against her abdomen. The small of her back was pressed against the kitchen island and she was staring blankly at the coffee machine; enjoying the process of not actually thinking of anything at the moment.

It was probably only a few minutes that passed when the shuffling of feet broke her out of her empty daydream.

Turning her head to the left, Georgie found Rick sauntering into the kitchen, wearing just his pajama pants and his wayward brown curls, which seemed to be peppered with even more grey hairs than were there a week ago.

"Morning," he greeted, laconically, while rubbing the remainders of sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand.

They looked at each other with tired eyes and both attempted to smile.

"You seem more rested today," Georgie remarked.

"I was only woken up once last night," he replied, stepping in front of her to open the cupboard and pull a few coffee cups out to set down on the counter next to the coffee machine.

"Sorry."

Turning around, Rick shook his head. "Don't be. It's not your fault."

"It's my nightmares waking me up, which wakes you up."

"I haven't been able to sleep well anyway. Whether it's you crying out or Judith or just my own mind, I'd be up whether I wanted to or not," Rick assured. "And I did sleep a little better, if not longer this time."

"I'm glad."

With a small smile, Rick placed a hand on Georgie's left hip and leaned in to place a small kiss upon her lips. "I love you," he whispered before pressing his forehead to hers.

Georgie closed her eyes; finding solace in this simple gesture. "I love you, too."

"Promise me, that's the last thing we say to each other whenever we go anywhere separately."

"Okay."

"Even if it's just me going outside these walls to clear walkers off those spikes; tell me you love me and I'll do the same."

"I will."

"I don't want my last words to you to be…" Rick trailed off for a moment. When he lifted his head, his eyes seemed moist with tears that so desperately wanted to fall but that he vehemently refused against. Blinking away the prospect of those tears, he cleared his throat instead. Georgie could see it in his face where his mind had gone; back to the clearing, specifically to Glenn's garbled attempt to speak to Maggie one last time.

_Maggie, I will find you._

Because Glenn always found a way to come back to her, each time they got separated and it seemed like they'd never see each other again; after the prison fell, when he was trapped in the rotating door when Noah had been killed, and when he'd gone off with Nicholas to start a fire to distract the hordes of walkers but ended up trapped under a dumpster. Every time he waited it out and found a way to return.

But the last time there was no returning from.

They'd never see each other again until Maggie took her own last breath, and that's even assuming there's any sort of afterlife.

Georgie could understand why Rick would want either of their last words to the other to be "I love you" because it was a statement of fact, not a promise of something that might not happen, no matter how sweet and loving it was. He wanted her to know that he would love her, up until the end, and he wanted to know she loved him, too. That was what he wanted to carry with him into the ever after if he went first. Those were the words he wanted to play over and over in his head if _she_ went first.

"Where's Michonne?" he asked after a moment. "I noticed her bedroom door open and she only leaves it open if she's gone."

"She, uh, she was gone before I came downstairs," Georgie lied with a shrug. She pushed off the kitchen island upon hearing the coffee maker stop percolating. "Maybe she took a watch shift."

"Yeah, maybe." Rick didn't seem too bothered by that idea, and he didn't seem to suspect anything else. It wasn't as if he had a reason to, anyway. Grabbing the coffee pot, he poured the dark brown liquid into both their cups. "Creamer and three sugars, right?"

Georgie smirked. "Yeah."

Rick smirked as well. It was easy to remember how Georgie liked her coffee. Lori had taken hers the same way, so it was one less thing to learn. The coffee was still bitter these days, though. All they had anymore was powdered creamer and that was in short supply, which meant using it sparingly. That, in turn, meant everyone had to learn to like the bitter flavor or just not drink it at all until more creamer or some other substitute could be found. Finding a cow would be amazing, but that was just wishful thinking.

Holding their cups in their respective hands, Rick and Georgie both waited for their beverage to cool down a bit before taking their first, initial sips. Instead, they just stared at each other for a moment; finding a short, happy moment together to just bask in.

Then Judith began to whimper over the monitor in Georgie's left hand while nursing her coffee cup in her right.

Rick sighed and set his cup down and took the monitor from Georgie. "Let me see," he muttered, staring at the black and white image on the screen. Judith was standing up, gripping the railing and jerking her body back as if she was trying to pry the railing off from the displeasure she felt in waking up alone in the dark of her room with a very likely wet diaper. "I'll be back."

Letting his hand brush along Georgie's arm, he set the monitor down on the counter next to his cup and slipped out of the kitchen. Georgie listened to his bare feet climbing the stairs while she turned her attention to the monitor to watch Judith turning toward the direction of the door; clearing hearing movement of someone in the upstairs hall, but unaware at the moment that it was her father.

A few seconds later, Georgie watched as a figure passed in front of the monitor in Judith's room; revealing easily enough that it was Rick stepping up to the crib.

"_Good morning,"_ he greeted the little girl and hoisted her out of her crib to hold her on his hip. _"Oh, here, look at that." _He walked toward the window with her and pointed to something while Judith began to fuss. _"Shh."_

Georgie smiled, bringing her coffee cup up to her lips, inhaling the scent and maintaining her gaze on the monitor.

"_Daddy loves you."_

* * *

A short while later, Carl was awake, too, nursing his own cup of coffee which he was drinking black like his father while sitting quietly on a stool at the kitchen island. The teen was staring pretty intently into his cup while Georgie stood at the other side of the island, near the fridge, with Judith on her hip. Rick came appeared in the kitchen a moment later, tucking in the bottom of his blue Gingham plaid shirt into his faded black jeans. His utility belt was already looped around his waist but missing its ornamentation; Rick's Colt Python.

Georgie had watched him for the last three days, how his right hand would instinctually gravitate toward that spot, as if expecting to be able to touch the gun, but then remembering it was gone now. It was like a phantom limb. Rick could still feel it there because it had become such a part of him and a part of him now felt a little lost without it. It was almost akin to a security blanket, in a way. He made do, though, where he could. He still had his hatchet, and they still had other guns to use; none of which were on him at the moment as he stood there with his children and Georgie.

Shifting Judith from her right hip over to her left, Georgie cleared her throat, just about to ask Rick a question when the walkie-talkie clipped to his utility belt crackled to life.

"_Rick, you need to get to the main gate. Now."_

It was Tobin, and the urgency in his voice was rather alarming.

Without wasting a second, Rick brought the walkie up to his mouth and replied back. "What's going on?"

"_It's Negan. He's here with a lot of his men."_

Rick immediately tensed. His eyes scanned to Georgie and then Carl; both of whom shared the same panicked look. While Carl seemed more on the angry side of things, Georgie blanched with fear.

"I'm coming," Rick assured, returning the walkie-talkie to its place on his utility belt. Sparing only seconds, he reached forward and kissed Judith on the forehead and then touched his hand to Georgie's arm. "I'll be back." Looking between his girlfriend and his son, he added, "Stay here."

Georgie moved to follow after him, preparing to pass Judith to her brother but Rick seemed to sense as much as he stopped and turned to shake his head at her.

"Rick—"

"Please. Stay here," he pleaded, holding her gaze. Then, more adamantly, "I _will_ be back."

He was practically a blur out the front door and down the front steps, but when he reached the sidewalk, he stopped again and turned around. While Carl was hovering in the doorway, Georgie stood front and center on the porch, still holding Judith; all three of them staring after him. Rick tried to put on a brave face for them.

"Remember: I love you."

"Love you, too, dad," Carl replied.

Georgie nodded and smiled a small, sad smile. "I love you, too."

Without another word, Rick continued down the road. The entire time neither Georgie nor Carl looked away; like two parents making sure their child walked safely into school all by his or herself for the first time.

"They're early," Carl spoke. "He said a week. It's only been three days." The sound in his voice, that anger, was obvious.

Georgie looked over her shoulder and watched him duck back inside the house, so she followed, albeit at a slower pace. Even though Dr. Carson had patched her back up at Hilltop, she still had pain in her leg which caused her a limp slightly. Rick had been getting at her to take some meds for that as well, but she refused. She'd been through worse and the pain was bearable as long as she didn't put her weight on it too long.

"We can't just let them come here and take half our stuff. We barely have anything as it is," Carl continued to bemoan, and Georgie sympathized with that anger he was feeling and expressing.

"We can't stop them, either," Georgie lamented, sadly. "There's more of them than us. We would literally die trying. And then what good would that do?"

"We can hide some things so they won't take 'em. Guns, knives, food."

"Where would we hide them?"

"In…in closets."

"Closets would be one of the first places anyone would look for anything."

"Then…the washing machine. No one would want wet or dirty clothes."

"And what happens if they realize we're purposely hiding things from them?" Georgie questioned. "We're not in a positon to poke the bear right now, Carl."

"Well, I'm not just gonna stay here and watch them take our shit. Fuck that."

As Carl darted for the front door, Georgie moved to grab his arm and hold him back. "Carl, no. Your dad said—"

"You're not my mom, okay. You can't make me stay."

Georgie's grip immediately released and she leaned away from him. Pushing his comment aside, she swallowed that hurt and sighed. "I don't have to listen to me, but your dad wanted you to stay here. When he's gone, you're man of the house."

Carl's shoulders slumped. "I didn't mean what I said like that," he sort of apologized. "But I need to try to do something. Tell my dad I snuck out if you want so he doesn't blame you for me leaving the house."

"I feel like I'm lying for everyone today," Georgie frowned.

Carl raised an eyebrow. He was about to question what she meant, but shook it off and instead left the house.

Georgie sighed deeply and she could feel her nerves alight with fire. She was sure that if she hadn't had her arms around Judith's midsection that her hands would be shaking from anxiety and fear. Her heart was already pounding a mile a minute. In her head she was suddenly picturing all these worst case scenarios involving Carl getting killed by doing something stupid and Rick hating her for the rest of their lives because she should've somehow physically subdued the teen to prevent him from going anywhere. Or what if Rick talked back to Negan, or reacted out of anger to something Negan might do, and then Rick or someone else gets killed. And then there were all those Saviors. What would they be like, coming into Alexandria, taking their stuff? Would they be orderly? Would they be like pirates of yore who pillaged, plundered and raped? Would it be a civil process or would it be chaos?

Holding Judith tight to her chest, she wanted to take the girl and go hide in one those closets upstairs until the figurative storm passed, but she instead chose to insure Judith's mouth was adorned with her beloved pacifier and that Judith had a toy to occupy her with. Carrying Judith and a stuffed panda bear out onto the front porch, Georgie took a seat in one of the patio chairs and waited for the storm to come her way.

* * *

The trucks moved in, parking at different positions throughout Alexandria. The Saviors followed next, going into homes and picking through everything, deciding what they wanted to take; clothes, DVDs, coffee machines, and even furniture. The only upside was that they seemed to only talk among themselves and didn't make any messes as they went along.

Georgie sat in silence with Judith, not even acknowledging the three Saviors that came up to the house and greeted her with a tip of the imaginary hat before walking right into the house like they owned the place. She didn't need to hear their trumped up explanation what why they were doing any of this when Alexandria had already set aside half of their supplies at the pantry to present to Negan during their original collection day. She stared straight ahead at the empty, overgrown lot across the street while Judith curled warmly against her.

Despite being shy of a year old, the girl could sense Georgie was unhappy and that something was amiss today, as she had noticed with everyone the last few days. The only difference was that she was letting Georgie cuddle her again, and that may or may not be simply because Georgie was the only familiar face around.

Though she kept her eyes trained forward, Georgie could still see out of her peripheral vision. She could see the other trucks, the other Saviors going in and out of houses. What's more is that she could hear Negan's boisterous voice carrying on the breeze. Even if she hadn't been able to hear the tone of his voice to know it was him, the fact that he was talking so much was enough to go by, because that man sure loved the sound of his own voice and didn't ever seem to shut the fuck up.

Out the corner of her right eye, Georgie saw two of the Saviors dragging a large mattress out through the front door with only the slightest amount of struggle. When they made it out, she finally looked their way and watched them carry the mattress down the front steps and up into the supply truck parked in front of the house next door.

One of the Saviors chuckled when he noticed Georgie was watching now. "You ever go camping? It's gonna be like that again for ya."

A few minutes after the Saviors had already gone back into the house, they came outside again with another mattress. They repeated the process two more times; the last time was when they were carrying out a twin mattress Georgie knew to belong to Carl's bed. They had taken her and Rick's mattress, Michonne's mattress and what had been Carol's mattress.

_We still have roofs over our heads_, Georgie told herself; trying to see the silver lining. _We have the skills to hunt for food. We have clean clothes, we have blankets. We have each other._

And then a muffled gunshot went off.

Georgie had stood up by that point and walked to the porch railing so she could crane to see up the road where the sound had originated. She could just make out the figures of Rick heading toward the Infirmary with Negan in tow, and Rick appeared to be carrying Lucille. The Saviors seemed to stop for a few moments; waiting to see if Negan would need them to do anything different, but no word came, so they continued as they were.

Worried that someone had been shot, Georgie's first instinct was to want to run toward the Infirmary and see if whoever might've been shot was okay. But she had to look after Judith and keep her safe. She was the only one home, and if something happened to Rick or to Carl, whom she still had no idea where he might've gone, then she was all Judith had left.

Sasha and Maggie were still at Hilltop, Carol and Morgan were MIA, Daryl was taken by the Saviors, Tara had gone off with Heath two weeks ago on that supply run, Abraham and Glenn were dead, and Michonne was somewhere outside the walls; and who's to say Michonne would be able to get back in now or at all. Who's to say something wouldn't happen to her while she was out there, and how would they really ever know? Gabriel had proven a big help with Judith, there was Aaron and Eric, and Tobin. Rosita and Eugene, too, as family. But it wasn't really the same. The family they'd all come to Alexandria as was very near a shadow of its former self.

Georgie had to stay where she was, in the house. Rick had asked that of her and she would oblige him for as long as she had to.

She loved him, she trusted him.

She would protect his child with her life.

That was currently her only purpose.

As Judith began to whine, possibly from hunger or just general discontent, Georgie bounced the girl slightly on her hip and shushed her soothingly, with her lips pressed gently into the girls dark blonde locks. "It's okay, sweetie. It's alright."

Sitting back down together in the patio chair, Georgie did so in a way that Judith could face her and see her face. With a calm, happy smile, Georgie began to hum the first children's tune that popped in her head, and the only thing she could think of was "Edelweiss" from _The Sound of Music_, which her mother used to sing to her as a child when she was sick, and what Georgie used to sing to Tristan and Avery when they were sick as well. Granted, Judith wasn't sick, but the melody seemed to do the trick.

Watching Georgie's face rather seriously, Judith's eyelids lowered; but not in a way that she was going to fall asleep or anything like that. She was just feeling comfortable again. Her tiny hands slackened their grip on her stuffed panda bear and she leaned her body forward as she clambered for Georgie's shirt to seek the full comfort she was after.

Catching the girl's drift, Georgie pulled Judith up against her stomach. She wrapped her arms around the small body while Judith lowered her head upon Georgie's chest and focused on sucking on that pacifier in her mouth.

After a while, Georgie was almost certain Judith might've nodded off after all, but then a second gunshot rang out; this one much louder because it had obviously happened outside. Judith jumped at the sound, and whimpered slightly, so Georgie hushed her again.

The Saviors seemed to be finished with the house and the one next door, but the last one, the one she'd lived in with Jake and Tristan, was still being picked apart. For now, at least, Georgie was breathing a little easier.

At this point, she didn't care what they'd taken from inside. She just wanted them gone.

She watched them head toward the blue house on the corner and leave her alone with Judith. Some went off toward the direction of the townhouses or toward the main gate.

_Just get the hell out of here_, Georgie silently wished. _Maybe get swarmed by a thousand walkers on your way out and die, while you're at it._

Then she saw Rick.

He was coming down the road, holding a bloodied Lucille, with his head hung low and walking at a suspiciously anxious pace.

When he looked up toward the house and found Georgie there on the porch with Judith, there was a momentary glimpse of panic in his eyes that was quickly subdued by the loving smile Georgie briefly flashed him with. His shoulders slumped and he hurried up to the front steps.

"What were those gunshots?" Georgie questioned as Judith whipped her head around to see her father.

"It was nothing. No one got hurt. You need to come to the church. We're having a quick meeting."

"About what? Have you seen Carl?"

"Yeah, I saw him. He was in the Infirmary. He's okay." Rick beckoned to her to come down from the porch and go with him. He wasn't looking directly at her, but it was obvious he was just trying to deal with everything currently transpiring and it was a considerably heavy burden. "There's two guns missing from the armory. They're listed on the inventory but not accounted for and Negan's not happy. He's practically holding Olivia hostage until we figure out where the guns went, and if we don't find them, he'll kill her."

"I wish you could somehow swing that bat against his head a few times till he was dead without us losing any more of our own," Georgie muttered, eyeing Lucille, as she carried Judith and joined Rick at his side.

Rick didn't respond.

* * *

A few minutes later, all of the Alexandrians were present inside the church. Sitting in the front pew with Carl, and Judith on her lap again, Georgie looked briefly over her shoulder and offered a lame smile at Aaron and Eric while they waited for Rick to say his piece. He was standing at the window, where he had Lucille upon the sill, waiting as the last Alexandrian wandered in and took a seat toward the back.

For the most part, everyone knew why they were there. They had overheard or been given the Cliffs Notes version. They knew it was about some missing guns, an angry Negan and Olivia being in the crosshairs.

His right hand shaking ever so slightly, Rick picked at his fingernails with his thumbnail, staring at Lucille while gathering his thoughts. When he stepped away, he turned around and walked over toward the center of the church, in full view of everyone present.

"I thought about hiding some of the guns. I did it before," he addressed, gesturing in the direction of the metal wall extension outside the church. "I figured I could bury some out there. Maybe we don't touch them for years."

"Years?" Tobin questioned.

"Yeah. That's right," Rick nodded, hands on his hips as he stepped forward up the aisle a bit. "But what if the Saviors _find_ those guns? What if we run into them when we have those guns _on_ us? One of us dies. Maybe more than that. Maybe a _lot_ more. Doesn't matter how many bullets we have. It isn't enough." Looking out over every face, either staring back at him or solemnly down into their laps, Rick turned and paused for a moment, letting his words sink in, before walking back to the front. "They win. It's _that_ black and white. Hiding a couple of guns isn't the answer. Not anymore. We don't have to like it, but we need to give them over. A Glock 9 and a .22. That's what they're looking for. Who has it?" He paused again, waiting to see if someone would speak up, but no one did. "Someone knows where they are or they know who does. If they don't find them, they're gonna kill Olivia. They'll do it."

Scott stood up. "Why do they care?" he questioned. "Two guns aren't a threat to them. But those guns could help protect us from whatever else it out there."

Rick nodded. "Do _you_ have 'em?"

"No. Wish I did," Scott replied with a shake of his as he sat back down.

"Most of you weren't there," Rick continued, alluding to the clearing; to being surrounded by Saviors as Abraham and Glenn were killed. "You didn't have to _watch_. But you can look away now when someone else dies, or you can help solve this. We give them what they want and we live in peace."

From behind her, Georgie could hear quiet mutterings between Aaron and Eric, but she couldn't make out what they were saying merely because her attention was focused on what Rick was saying to all of them.

"Don't," Aaron whispered, a little bit louder now, allowing Georgie to hear. "Now's not the time."

"It _is_," Eric insisted, before standing up and staring at Rick. "Say we find the guns. How are we gonna get out of this, Rick?"

Rick stepped forward, holding Eric's gaze. "There _is_ no way out of this." Turning away, he gestured to everyone. "Let me put this to all of you as clearly as I can: I'm not in charge anymore. Negan is. Now who has the guns?"

Again, no one spoke up.

"Not everyone's here," Eugene remarked, from a little further back.

Rick's eyes immediate began to rescan the crowd.

Michonne, Rosita and Spencer were unaccounted for.

Georgie immediately sank back into her seat, bringing forth the image of Michonne removing the shotgun from the fireplace. However, Negan and the Saviors weren't looking for a shotgun, and if the entire inventory was accounted for except for the Glock 9 and the .22, then the shotgun was never on the inventory and had been stashed there a long while back. Michonne wouldn't have been stupid to take any weapons from the armory without signing them out, especially if she was being so secretive about leaving with a shotgun she had hidden away. Rosita and Spencer were another story.

Regardless of whether or not Rosita and Spencer were the culprits, Georgie felt compelled to let Rick know the truth about where Michonne had gotten off to, and with what.

But not now. Not with everyone else present.

"Well, until those not here get back, we still need to figure out where those guns are," Rick continued. "Maybe the guns were taken outside the walls. If not, that means they're here, somewhere, and we need to find them. At the very least, we need to buy ourselves some time buy looking. So let's go, let's search houses, yards. Literally leave no stone unturned if you have to." When no one made an immediate move to get up and go, Rick pointed to the doors. "Come on, _go_."

Without further incentive, each person began standing up and filing out of the church to head in different directions. Georgie walked over to Carl and passed his sister over to him.

"Take your sister home," she commanded. "Stay in the house this time."

Carl just nodded, scooping Judith into his arms and walking off with her without a word.

Georgie could tell by his solemnity that wherever he'd gone and whatever he'd done must've culminated in the Infirmary, since that's where Rick said he'd seen Carl, and because father and son seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

"We have no guns in our house," Georgie said; hanging back to stand beside Rick. "Not anymore, that is."

Rick turned and looked at her. "What's that mean?"

Once they were the last two people inside, Georgie turned to face him. "I lied this morning when you asked if I'd seen Michonne, but only because she asked me to."

"Lied about what?" he asked; hands on his hips.

"She came out of her room the same time I was coming into the kitchen. She had a duffel bag with her and removed a rifle that had been tucked up inside the fireplace. She said she was going outside the walls. Target practice, or whatever she might really be doing. She said she needs to work on getting better using a gun. For all I know she's gone off looking for the Saviors' real compound with the goal of assassinating Negan on her own terms."

Off Rick's frustrated sigh, he pinched his nose with his thumb and index finger. "I really don't need this right now."

"None of us _need_ this right now, Rick. We're all figuring this new life together, but in different ways. Carl's angry and ready to go off guns-a-blazing—"

"I know," Rick groaned. "He almost shot and killed a Savior in the Infirmary earlier."

"—I'm having damn night terrors and don't even want to leave the house. Rosita walks around looking like she wants to murder everyone, Eugene's reverted into being a boy scared of his own shadow. We're all fumbling here. We're all angry and scared and depressed, but this is the life we live now. This is the world we live in. We gotta make do," Georgie spoke, lifting her hands to pull Rick's down from his face so he'd look at her. And he did, along with another heavy sigh. "You can confront Michonne about where she went and worry about that later, but right now let's looks for those damn guns and hope they're within these walls and not outside them."

Rick nodded. After a moment of not saying anything, he looked up and stepped over to the windowsill where Lucille; grabbing it up. "We should check the empty houses that no one's living in. Maggie and Glenn's place, maybe the Monroe's since Spencer isn't here."

"Where's Olivia right now?" Georgie asked as they began to head for the doors.

"Negan's got her in the courtyard beside the Monroe's house."

"Let's start there, then. That way we can keep an eye on her."

Rick tutted. "What can we possibly do to keep an eye on her. If he tries roughing her up, how do I stop that without getting her killed or you killed or myself killed? We're damned if we do, damned if we don't, Georgie."

Outside the church doors, Aaron was waiting for them.

"My house is clean. Eric and I would never take a gun from the armory and hide it and then not just hand it over when Olivia is life hangs in the balance," he insisted.

"I know. I trust you. We have no guns either, but we're gonna head to Spencer's and try there since he's not here to do it," Rick remarked as Aaron began to walk with him and Georgie.

"With Rosita gone, too, maybe someone should check our second house," Georgie suggested. "With how she's been lately, I don't think we should completely throw out the idea it's possible she might be hiding the guns."

Aaron nodded in agreement. "Better safe than sorry," he said. "I'll grab Eugene and have him help me. He lives there, too, after all. He might know of hiding spots."

Rick cast an eye toward the Monroe's townhouse, before glancing back at Aaron. "Come straight to us first if you find anything."

"Will do."

* * *

Rick was staring out the living room window, with the curtain pushed aside slightly, as he watched Negan relaxing in a patio chair beside a very tense and terrified Olivia in the courtyard. Seething with anger, Rick stalked away from the window with a shaky sigh. He bent down to look underneath the coffee and when he stood up he tossed one of the reading chairs onto its back. It didn't reveal any missing guns but it was a big therapeutic. At each book shelf, he knocked books over or threw them to the floor altogether, but there were no guns hidden there either.

"Nothing. Still."

Rick turned around to see Gabriel standing over in the dining room; the pastor having joined Rick and Georgie in searching the Monroe's townhouse when he saw them approaching it.

"I just…I feel like…" Gabriel continued, walking forward into the living room. "I _know_ this is going to work out."

Dropping to his knees to push over more books on the floor, Rick looked every bit pessimistic. "How?"

"We'll find the guns. We'll get through today. Then we'll find a way to go forward, how to beat this."

Frustrated, Rick shoved the books piled into his lap away and stood back up. "There is no beating this," he bit out, moving on to the next book shelf.

"Yes, there is, somehow. I have faith in us. I have faith in _you_," Gabriel stressed, watching as Rick crouched down, tossing more books angrily aside. "Things change. You're my friend. It… wasn't always that way."

Looking back up at Gabriel, Rick ran a hand over his mouth, sighed and stood up again.

"Where's Michonne? Could she possibly have—"

"She doesn't have anything that they're looking for," Georgie informed as she entered the room from the kitchen at the other end of that floor of the house.

Both men looked over at Georgie approaching while Rick removed a framed diploma from the wall. Maybe he was expecting a wall safe behind it.

"What you did with the graves, it was quick thinkin'," Rick said to Gabriel. "Thank you."

Georgie was out of that loop, in regard to whatever Rick was talking about, and chose to focus on the couch cushions; pulling them off and tossing them to the floor before finding nothing but a green marble and a yellow twist-tie.

"It was nice digging a grave I knew would stay empty," Gabriel quipped as Aaron seeming appeared, from out of seemingly nowhere, in the archway between the living room and entrance hall.

"No luck?" Aaron inquired, looking a bit more stressed out than Rick, if that was at all possible.

The tight jaw and the anxious look in Rick's eyes said otherwise, though. He shook his head ever so slightly toward Aaron as a response.

"We searched the house; Rosita's," Aaron continued. "There's nothing. So what do we do now?"

Looking around the immediate area he was standing in, Rick sighed. "If they were anywhere, they'd be here," he insisted. "Spencer's done this kind of thing before."

Realization hit Georgie. "He did, didn't he? After we made it back here and that herd followed, you mentioned something about Spencer stealing food from the pantry. Deanna took it back. That's how you found out. She didn't feel it right to keep that from you."

Rick nodded. "We keep looking," he remarked, setting the framed diploma he'd removed from the wall down onto the same chair he'd had sat in during his interview with Deanna, months ago. "Maybe today works out."

"I'll check the garage," Aaron offered, taking off for the stairs.

"I'll look in Deanna's office again," Gabriel added.

Rick patted the pastor's upper arm and walked back over toward the window overlooking the courtyard again, running his arms up and running both hands through his hair.

"Kitchen's clear, that I'm sure of, but I'll give the bedrooms another look," Georgie spoke and began to turn out of the room after Gabriel.

As she was halfway up the stairs, she heard Rick call out to her, and she was back down the stairs as quick as she could; a slight hobble in her step the only sign that she was dealing with any pain in her leg. But even then, she was running on plenty of adrenaline with the Saviors and the threat against Olivia that any semblance of pain wasn't even in her thoughts.

"What?" she asked, rounding the couch to find Rick crouched down at the base of the window and hunched forward.

"Floor vent," he answered, holding up exactly that. Tossing it aside, he looked over his shoulder briefly at Georgie. "I didn't even notice this spot earlier."

"My kids used to remove the floor vents at my house and throw their toys inside."

Rick gave Georgie his full focus for a longer moment. "Carl, too."

Georgie smirked. "Spencer is somewhat immature. I wouldn't put it past him to hide stuff in a vent like a child."

Shoving his hands into the vent hole, Rick struck gold almost immediately, pulling out several canned goods. On further inspection, he removed a bottle of what looked to be whiskey that was slightly less than halfway empty. Crouching down beside Rick, Georgie waited curiously as Rick bent forward and practically stuck his face into the hole to see better.

Shifting around, Rick lay down on his side and shoved his right arm all the way into the vent hole, feeling around until his hand hit soft material with something hard and lumpy inside. Grabbing onto it, he pulled it out of the hole and sat up, revealing a black pouch of some sort. Neither he nor Georgie sad anything as he opened the pouch and tipped it over; causing two guns to tumble out onto the floor. Gripping both guns—the missing Glock 9 and .22—in one hand and the pouch in the other, Rick looked up at Georgie with an expression of sheer relief with a hint of a smile somewhere in there for her as well.

Georgie smirked while he looked up toward the ceiling for a moment, almost as if saying a prayer of thanks. "Crisis averted?"

Bringing his eyes back down to hers, he nodded. Scrambling up to his feet, he placed both guns back into the pouch and walked over to where he'd left Lucille. "C'mon," he muttered to Georgie as he nodded toward the direction of the front door. "We got 'em!" Rick called out for Gabriel's and Aaron's benefit.

The pastor didn't waste a moment in joining the couple at the front door. "Where were they?"

"Tucked away inside a floor vent."

Aaron was moments behind coming up the stairs from the garage and eyeing the black pouch. "Are those the guns? You found 'em?"

Rick nodded and the four of them headed outside, down the stairs. Once he reached the brick sidewalk, Rick slowed his pace down when he saw four Saviors standing several feet away, in front of Enid, and it was clear she was uncomfortable. Carl was there, too, which raised the question of who had Judith.

"Balloons? You going to a party, little girl?" One of the four Saviors was asking Enid.

"Can I keep them, please?" Enid seemed to be equal parts nervous and aggravated, and rightfully so. "It's just…let me keep them."

Gripping a handful of green balloons in his right hand, the Savior stepped closer to Enid. "Say please again, little girl."

"Please."

The Savior ran a finger across her cheek, causing her to look temporarily away.

Georgie tensed, her fists clenching at her sides; wishing for a way any of them to come to Enid's defense without getting any of their people hurt or killed. After all, Negan had proved that any sort of retaliation in defense of anyone was met with serious consequences. At her side, Georgie sensed Rick take half a step forward. Sensing he was about to intervene, but seeing how calm and collected the teen girl appeared, Georgie quickly grabbed Rick's wrist and gave it a squeeze; silently telling him to stand down.

It wasn't her hand hold that normally did the trick for him, but it centered him just the same.

"Yeah. One more time," The Savior remarked, chuckling.

"_Please_," Enid replied, more sharply this time.

In response, the Savior opened his fist and let the green balloons fall to the ground like crushed flower petals before pointing a finger in her face. "Be careful, little girl."

Angrily, Carl turned around and eyed his father. The message was clear that he wanted his father to do something, but there was nothing Rick could really do at the moment.

He was between a rock and a hard place.

Damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

"They'll be gone soon," Rick assured his son, even though he knew his son didn't exactly find comfort in that.

Sure, the Saviors would be gone soon but, before they knew it, they'd be back again.

And again.

And again.

Walking over toward the back of a supply truck which was still open, Rick found Negan standing there with Olivia and a few more Saviors, along with Daryl off to the side, wearing an exceptionally dirty pair of sweatpants and matching sweatshirt with a red 'A' spray-painted on it. It looked like he hadn't bathed in years, and that was saying something considering this was Daryl; someone who seemed to avoid baths much like a cat.

"What you got for me, Rick?" Negan asked as Georgie, Gabriel and Aaron followed after the former sheriff's deputy. As Rick handed over the black pouch, Negan looked inside and chuckled happily. "Well, would you look at that? They were _here_ after all. Funny how a little 'Holy shit! Somebody's gonna die!' lights a fucking fire under everybody's ass!"

As Olivia whimpered, brushing some hair from her face, Georgie felt the sudden urge to go over to her and hug her; to console her over almost getting killed over someone missing guns. The poor woman was clearly not having the best day ever, not that anyone of them really were, but especially Olivia. Georgie made a mental note to check on her later, after the Saviors got the hell out.

Negan sighed, casting a glance at Olivia. "So, tell me, Rick: which one of your fine folks almost cost Olivia the rest of her days?"

"It doesn't matter anymore—"

"—No, it matters," Negan interrupted, handing off the pouch with the guns off to Dwight. "See, you need to get _everybody_ on board. _Everybody_. Or…we just go right back to square one."

After Dwight set the pouch inside the truck, he pulled the door down as it rattled and slammed shut.

With a look around, Negan raised his hand, gave it a whirl and whistled. All his men—and a few women in his "employ"—began to wrap everything up, really lickety-split, like a well-oiled machine.

As the trucks were closed up, they began rolling out.

"Walk with me, Rick," Negan commanded in a gentle, polite manner.

Clenching his jaw, Rick obliged the asshole and began to walk side by side with him down the brick sidewalk while both Saviors and a few of Rick's people followed after. The entire jaunt toward the main gate was in awkward silence, but Negan seemed to find nothing awkward about it as he walked with his hands clasped behind his back, whistled a happy tune and practically had a boyish skip in his step.

As they walked passed the infirmary, several Alexandrians watched nervously from their porches or from behind the curtains in their homes.

The entire time, Rick began to walk slower so that he was no longer in step with Negan and either Negan didn't notice Rick was no longer beside him or he just didn't care. In fact, soon, Negan's own people were surrounding him, leaving Rick and Rick's people at the tail end as the last of the truck left the main gate.

Two trucks stopped just inside the gate, idling, as a rusty white van, followed by one of Alexandria's rusty cars came in through the open gate and came to a complete stop along the wall.

"Hell of a place you got here, Rick," Negan remarked as Spencer hopped out of the van and Rosita out of the car. Turning with his back to the gate, he looked at Rick with a smirk.

"Give me a second," Rick said, though it was posed as a question.

Following Rick's gaze over his shoulder, Negan spotted Michonne in the window of the burnt out ruins of the house just outside the gate, with a deer over her shoulders, before she quickly ducked away out of sight. Smiling, Negan glanced back at Rick.

"No."

"Please, can you just…give me a second?"

Negan smiled, and then nodded.

Taking that as the yes he wanted, Rick took off outside the gate toward the burnt out ruins with Lucille still in his hand.

Rolling his tongue against his upper teeth and then sucking some air through them, Negan turned his attention to the other Alexandrians standing at what they felt a safer distance from him. He found amusement in this, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth and zeroing in on Georgie. Tilting his head to the side a little, a look of remembrance flashed over his face.

"Oh yeah," he muttered. "You're Red's sister or whatever, aren't you?"

Looking up at him, Georgie locked eyes and nodded. "Yeah, he was my brother."

Negan's smile faded considerably, but not in a way that he was mad. In fact he seemed almost sympathetic as he took a few steps closer to her. "I'm terribly sorry about wasting your flesh and blood like that, and getting his flesh and blood on you, if I remember correctly."

"You did," Georgie assured, clenching her jaw to keep it from quivering.

"I bet when you two were growing up you never thought that would happen to him. In the old world, a Guy like him would've probably died of a heart attack, yelling at a Redskins game on TV some Sunday afternoon, huh?" Negan shrugged. "Time's change."

When Georgie made no comment, Negan narrowed his eyes at her and took another step forward, and Georgie was feeling too nervous to move away. She did look away, though; focusing on an unimportant spot of pavement as he lifted a hand to her chin and held it in place. Georgie began to tense up as he seemed to be studying her face, as if scrutinizing every detail and was about to realize Georgie wasn't actually related to Abraham as she welcomingly claimed.

"You ever see the movie 'Deliverance'? The one with Jon Voight and Burt Reynolds?" Squeezing her cheeks together, he gently forced her lips to pucker. "You sure got a purty mouth," he added with an exaggerated Southern accent.

Feeling disgusted, Georgie could almost see Jake there again, and how he treated her once they found each other here in Alexandria. She remembered how he'd changed and how she hated the way she became an idiot damsel in distress because of him. It made her angry and she never wanted to be that. So, calling on a small fraction of her inner fire, Georgie yanked her head back, out of Negan's grasp, and half expected him to get angry at her show of defiance.

Instead, he chuckled. "I'm gonna call _you_ Red now, and not because you're a redhead like your _very_ dead brother," he spoke quietly. "Because you're _red_ hot like _fire_." He chuckled at his own comment and clucked his tongue again. "Seriously. You get tired of this place, you are _more_ than welcome to stay with me. I will _personally_ see to making sure you're taken _very_ good care of."

"I'm happy here."

Negan shrugged, as Michonne came stalking toward the main gate with the deer over her shoulders and Rick not far behind her. "Well, the offer still stands if you ever change your mind, _Red_." With a wink and a smile at Georgie, he spun around on the heels of his boots and came face to face with Michonne and the deer. "Look at this!"

"I thought she was scavenging," Rick spoke as he a brief glance over at Georgie; having noticed the tail end of some interaction between her and Negan which he found disconcerting. He was carrying the Michonne's rifle that Georgie had seen her remove from the fireplace and handed it willingly over to Negan. "She was hunting. This one never came inside. We kept it near the line."

Accepting the rifle, Negan gave it a quick look and smiled at Rick. "Look at this. _This_ is something to build a relationship on. Good for _you_, Rick. This is _readin'_ the room and _gettin'_ the message. I've said it before, I'm gonna say it again. You sir…are _special_."

Rick dipped his head. "Now that you know we can follow your rules—"

"_Yes_?"

"—I'd like to ask you if Daryl can say?" he inquired hopefully, looking back up.

"Not happenin'." Off Rick's faintly broken reaction, he added, "You know what? I don't know. _Maybe_ Daryl can plead his case. _Maybe_ Daryl can _sway_ me." Both Negan and Rick looked over at Daryl, who kept his head down and remained silent as the grave; looking very much like a wild animal that had been broken and domesticated. "Daryl?" When no response still came, Negan chuckled and turned his attention back at Rick while smiling. "Well, you tried. _Now_ what you gotta do is get over that _tall wall_ of yours and try _harder_ out there. _Earn_ for me. Because we're coming back soon, and when we do you better have something _interesting_ for us, or Lucille—she's gonna have her way. I want you to hear that again. If you don't have something _interesting_ for us, somebody's gonna die. And no more magic guns." Turning his attention away from Rick, he called out, "Arat! Grab that deer. It's getting late. Let's go home."

With the mother of all scowls, Michonne dropped the deer carcass to the ground with a careless thud and immediately stalked off without a single look back at Negan, or even Rick. She was none too happy, and it seemed to entail more than just losing the deer and the Saviors being there. Whatever Rick had said to her in that burnt out house hadn't done anything to lighten her mood.

"Man, I love a gal that buys me dinner and doesn't expect me to put out," Negan quipped leaning in toward Rick as he spoke.

Rick just stared after Michonne for a few moments, his brow knitting together with the beginnings of his own tension headache before shifting his gaze to Georgie; hoping to find calm by looking in her eyes.

"Rosita!" Dwight called out, rolling his 'r' as he patted Daryl's bike she and Spencer had brought back. "Got a little something for you." Removing something from his back pocket, he tossed it over to Rosita, revealing it was just her hat that she normally wore. "That's all you're getting back. Took all your guns, most of your beds. I hope you find a place to lay your pretty little head." With a chuckle, he climbed onto the bike. "Find anything else out there?"

"Just your dead friends," Rosita replied.

Georgie had never admired the younger woman more for her balls.

Turning the bike on, Dwight revved the engine and rode it around so that it was now facing toward the gate as he brought it up alongside Daryl and let it idle. "You can have it back. Just say the word."

When no words came from Daryl, Dwight shrugged it off and sped out of Alexandria without a second thought. Rick stepped closer toward his best friend while giving his attention to Negan again.

"So, nobody died," Negan remarked. "And you know what I think? I think you and I, we refined our understanding. Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you want me to go?"

After only seconds of consideration, Rick nodded. "I think that'd be good."

"Then just say those two _magical_ words."

Swallowing back his pride, Rick took half a step forward and lowered his voice. "Thank you."

'_Fuck you' is more like it_, Georgie thought.

Negan chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. Thank _you_," he remarked with a grin as the sound of a walker growled in the distance. "Another one. You need our help. Davey, hand me that candlestick over there. You know what I think, Rick? I think we're both gonna come out of this _winners_." Taking the bulky, black candlestick one of his Saviors handed him, Negan turned back toward the approaching walker. "Watch my form!" Raising his arms as his gripped the candlestick in both hands, he brought the butt of it down against the front of the walker's skull with the all too familiar sound of rotting brain, blood and bone crunching and gushing together just before the body dropped to the ground. "Ahh. Yep. Win-win." Negan turned back toward Rick; still smiling as he tossed the bloodied candlestick to the ground. "Clean that up for _next_ time. Let's move out!" As he began to walk toward a delivery style truck, the rest of his Saviors began to follow suit and either head for the remaining trucks still within the walls, but then Negan stopped. "Oh, wait," he chuckled, turning back around and staring at the back of Rick's head. "How _careless_ of me. You didn't think I was gonna leave Lucille, did you? I mean, after what she did, why would _you_ want her? Thank you for being so accommodating, friend."

Rick just stood there, staring forward at the pavement as he felt like he was about to break down.

Negan reached across Rick's front and grabbed Lucille, but stayed leaned in like that to whisper in his ear. "In case you haven't caught on, I just slipped my _dick_ down your throat and you _thanked_ me for it."

Without another word, chuckle or smile, Negan stepped away and climbed into the delivery truck, giving it two bangs so the driver knew head out and so the other trucks would follow. As it lurched forward and drove off, it ran over the body of the walker Negan had just killed and still, Rick just remained standing there, staring out after the trucks as they left.

Rick watched at the truck carrying Daryl began to fade away, with Daryl finally looking back at him and Rick felt like a piece of him was dying again; having to watch his best friend leave.

Before turning around to stare back inside Alexandria, he looked up at the bottom of their entrance sign.

MERCY FOR THE LOST. VENGEANCE FOR THE PLUNDERERS.

_What a bunch of horse shit that is now_, he thought to himself.

Stepping fully inside, he pulled both gates closed. Everyone else had more or less retreated to their homes, aside from Spencer and Rosita who were closing up the back doors to the van Spencer had driven back in. And Georgie. She was waiting for him in the same spot where Negan had approached her.

Rick walked right up to her and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Neither said a word. He just held her hand and then looked at her face as she brought her gaze up to his, squinting from the sunlight in her eyes. He was silently asking if she was okay, and she shrugged in response. With a nod, he accepted that for now and released her hand.

"I'll be right behind you," he muttered, gesturing up the street with a second nod, indicating to her heading home.

After a pause, Georgie obliged him and turned to walk slowly up the road while Rick walked around the front of the van.

"Spencer," he called out as he approached the younger man. "We took the guns you had in your house. The Saviors wanted ours, all of them. There were two missing from the inventory. They were gonna kill Olivia. _Spencer_."

"You went into my house?"

"They were gonna kill Olivia," Rick repeated, flabbergasted that the thing Spencer seem most shaken up about wasn't the potential loss of an innocent life but instead a little breaking and entering. "Look, I'm not faulting you for having the guns. I did it myself. But the _food_ and _liquor_?" Rick sighed. "That's 'cause you're small, Spencer. You're weak. You got lucky with the walls. You got lucky with _us_."

Rick turned around and began to walk away when Spencer called out.

"We should've made a deal with them when we could've." When Rick kept walking, that seemed to piss Spencer off. "Oh, yeah, we're _so_ lucky. You've led us to the Promised Land! Isn't that right, Rick? Here we are! I guess Glenn and Abraham were lucky, too?"

Rick stopped walking.

Straw, meet camel's back.

Speaking low, but loud enough for his voice to reach Spencer's ears, Rick said, "You say anything like that to me again, I'll break your jaw, knock your teeth out. You understand? Say yes."

"Yes," Spencer replied.

Cocking his head to the right for a moment, Rick continued on up the road.

* * *

Back at home, Georgie had learned that Carl had passed Judith off to Eric, who had brought her home. He'd gone as far as to giving her a bottle, changing her into her footie pajamas and putting her down for a nap when she grew too tired to keep her head up. Carl hadn't come home yet. He was probably with Enid somewhere and Rick was okay with that. He knew his son was upset with him, just as he was upset with his son over the stunt he'd pulled in the Infirmary. It was something they'd have to discuss later, but for now…

Rick was kneeling on his bedroom floor where his bedframe and mattress used to be. The baby monitor was plugged in since its battery had died while they were out of the house and it was positioned against the wall where Rick had his and Georgie's pillows laid out while he was rolling out unzipped sleeping bags for padding for them to sleep on. It was a menial but necessary task and it gave him something else to focus on for the time being.

Sensing someone in the doorway, he expected it to be Georgie, but found it was instead Michonne.

"They took our mattresses. Most of them."

After a moment of silence, she stepped in the room; somewhere she never went so she took the opportunity to take a tentative look around. "That rifle was one of theirs from the outpost. They didn't have a list?"

Rick shook his head. "Unh-unh."

"Could've hidden more."

"Did you?"

Michonne sighed. "No." Turning around, she walked out of the room, but then stopped. Tensing up, she turned back into the room. "Everything we have, we got from fighting."

"I made the choice. There aren't enough of us. It's about numbers."

"There's the Hilltop."

"They'd _still_ have the numbers," Rick repeated. "We play by their rules, and we get some kind of life."

"What kind of a life?" she barked, growing emotional.

Rick sighed. "You know, I had a friend. I don't talk about him. He was my partner. He got Lori and Carl to safety right after it all started," he began to open up. "I couldn't. I was in the hospital. I—I didn't know what was happenin'. My friend—his name was Shane. Well, him and Lori, they were together. They thought I was dead."

While Rick spoke, Georgie was walking up the stairs; quietly and slowly. She knew where he was going with this conversation with Michonne. It was a subject he had only finally talked to her about after her son had died, when she was grieving, during one of his attempts to get her to open up to him. He had asked her then to keep the information he'd told her to herself and she had kept that promise. Now she just stood there, unintentionally eavesdropping as he let Michonne in on his information, too.

"I know Judith isn't mine. I know it," Rick admitted, taking a deep breath. "I love her. She's my daughter. But she isn't mine. I had to accept that. I did. So I could keep her alive. I'll die before she does, and I hope that's a long time from now so I can raise her and protect her and teach her how to survive." Rick was staring up at Michonne, unfaltering in his gaze. "_This_ is how we live now. I had to accept that, too, so I could keep everyone else alive."

"It's not your fault when people die," Michonne insisted.

"Not always, but sometimes—sometimes it is. You have to _accept_ this — _all_ of us do — or it _won't_ work."

Leaning back against the doorframe, Michonne swallowed back her own pride. Any argument she'd had planned on having with him about her issues with all of what was going on, she suddenly felt guilty about now that she understood more of his motives and point of view on the matter. With a heavy sigh, she looked down and whispered, "I'm gonna try."

Rick looked down at the blanket he was trying to straighten out and nodded with appreciation, and then looked up when he noticed her slipping out of the bedroom and passing Georgie in the hall.

As Michonne took her leave, Georgie replaced her presence in the bedroom; stepping inside slowly and quietly as she knelt down across from Rick on the floor and picked up the other side of the blanket. In silence, she helped him straighten it out for them to use when they went to sleep that night. She placed the pillows less haphazardly at the top instead of where he'd more or less just tossed them and then they both just seemed to sit back on the heels of their feet, staring at the blanket.

"What did he say to you, when I was talking to Michonne in the ruins?" Rick questioned, slowly bringing his gaze back up toward her.

"He remembered me from the clearing. Made some attempt to apologize for killing Abraham, still thinking he was my brother and I didn't discourage him of that," Georgie replied, maintaining her gaze downward. "Then he made a movie reference and asked if I wanted to live with him instead of here." Lifting her eyes, she saw Rick's knitted brow. "I told him no, obviously."

"What movie reference?"

"Deliverance."

Rick didn't seem to understand exactly what Negan could've been referencing.

Georgie sighed. "He said I had a 'purty' mouth."

Quite instinctively, Rick's nostrils flared with anger and is jaw clenched as he thought about that bastard trying to make a move on Georgie.

"Take my guns, take my candlesticks and my beds. I don't give a shit. They're material," Rick muttered, eyeing Georgie intently. "He can't ever have you. He can't take you." He shook his head, placing his hands on his thighs. "He's already taken enough people from me."

The tears that began to form along his eyelids stung and he wiped them quickly away, but Georgie had already seen them. Leaning forward, she crawled over the blankets to where he knelt and placed her hands on either side of his face and then dropped them so she could wrap her arms around his neck and hug him. Rick welcomed the gestured and returned it, wrapping his own arms around her back.

"We'll find a way to work through this. We'll make this work for us somehow," Georgie whispered. "We'll bide our time and find a way to somehow fight back. Not today, not tomorrow, but it'll happen."

Rick wrapped his arms tighter around her. "I hope so."

Georgie nuzzled her nose against Rick's neck. "I _know_ so."


	41. Killing Time

**Author's Note: I was able to write this chapter and the next chapter quickly, and in advance, so I waited until posting today for this chapter, and next Sunday I'll post the next one, because in two weeks TWD returns and I can't go forward with writing anything else until I see where the next episode(s) progress. So, enjoy and, as always, please _R&amp;R!_**

**_xoxo __—__Holly_**

* * *

_"When suffering knocks at your door and you say there is no seat for him, he tells you not to worry because he has brought his own stool." _— Chinua Achebe

* * *

After the embrace and assuring words from Georgie, Rick finished placing their pillows at the top of their makeshift bed on the floor and then just laid down on his back, knees bent, as he stared up at the ceiling. Georgie sat there, watching him for a moment; watching the way he closed his eyes to think, to rest, to absorb…everything. The last week seemed to have aged him another couple of years. She was certain there were more greys in his hair now, and his beard was almost predominantly white. When she'd met him, a mere four months ago, which felt more like four years ago in this new world, Rick's beard had been almost exclusively brown.

Although their bedroom door was open, there was no one upstairs except for Judith who was still asleep in her room. The calm and the quiet gave the impression that everything was fine, but it didn't do anything for the heavy feeling of dread in their chests.

Shifting to lie upon her side, Georgie bent her arm at the elbow and propped the side of her head in her hand as she rested there on the floor next to Rick; the unzipped sleeping bag and blanket doing little to mask the hardness of the floor, but it was better than nothing.

"We're gonna need more supplies, and soon," Rick muttered after minutes of silence hanging in the air. He lifted his right hand and pinched the bridge of his nose while furrowing his brow. His eyes still remained closed. "Negan said he'd be here in a week and then showed up after three days. He could still be back in that original week timeframe, which gives us only four more days till he might be back. It's probably better to just assume he'll show up before then."

Georgie sighed and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling, now, too. "He says one thing and does another. He said he's a man of his word. Bullshit. There's no trusting what he says, no matter what. But we have to be smart about this. We gotta think about both the short game and the long game."

Rick smirked, despite his sour mood, and turned with opened eyes to look at Georgie's profile. "You sounded like Carol just then."

Georgie's expression turned into that of a deep frown and her eyes narrowed. "Do you think she's alive or dead out there?"

With a sigh, Rick shrugged. "I have no clue. I can't think about that right now. I mean, if she's alive, I'm glad, but she left us. She left knowing what we'd be up against. If she'd never left, Daryl wouldn't have gone off after her, and then Michonne, Glenn and Rosita wouldn't have gone off. Glenn would've been here for Maggie. Rosita and Carol both had medical training here and there. They could've been able to do something…"

"But the Saviors were still on the roads, coming to find us," Georgie pinpointed. "They'd have cut us off on those roads, regardless, on our way to get Maggie proper care at Hilltop. We'd still have ended up where we are. Negan would've still killed one of us. That was his plan all along once he brought us to that clearing. But who knows who he would've chosen in a different scenario. Maybe we would've only had to bury one body instead of two. I've already been rehashing all these different versions of that night and the days leading up to it in my head since we got back here. None of it helps or changes what _did_ happen. All it does is serves to give me headaches and nightmares because I can't seem get it off my mind."

Rick rolled onto his side this time, and Georgie turned her head to look at him. Lifting a hand, he brought it to her waist and let it trail down slightly to her hip and, with little effort he shifted his weight around until his body was hovering halfway over hers. With his right leg between both of hers, he pressed his weight gently down upon her as he slowly encircled his arms around her waist and brought his lips against her lips.

"Negan wasn't all wrong," he murmured, in between a few pecks.

"Yeah? How so?"

"You _do _have a _purty_ mouth." A small, mischievous smile crept onto his lips as he went in for a deeper kiss this time. He was tempted to let his hands begin to roam; to properly make out with her like some teenager with his in a dark corner on prom night. But the door was still wide open, which meant anyone could walk upstairs at any given moment and catch an eyeful. Of course, he _could_ get up and shut it, but if he was getting up, it was gonna have to go take care of the other tasks that took precedence at the moment.

"When do you plan on heading out on a supply run?" Georgie asked, as if reading Rick's mind.

He sighed, laying there atop Georgie with his forearms propping himself up so that the full weight of his upper body didn't press down too much on her chest and suffocate her. "I was almost thinking early tomorrow morning, but now I'm thinking why not make the most of the daylight I have left? We still got a few hours. I can get a decent start out if I leave within the hour, give or take."

Georgie frowned again. "I understand the need to leave so soon, but I'm admittedly not enthralled by it."

"I know, but it's a necessary evil."

"I know."

"And, the sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back."

"Well, when you put it _that_ way."

Rick smirked. Leaning down slightly, he kissed her again, and then rolled completely off her.

"Thanks for blue-balling me by the way," Georgie added.

With a snicker, Rick sat up and pushed himself up to his feet. "I'll make it up to you." Leaning down, he held out a hand and offered it to her, which she took.

As she stood up with his help, Georgie straightened her shirt and looked at their makeshift bed. "Maybe while you're out you can find us some new mattresses. The one we had was a Serta. That was some good shit."

Shoving his hand into the back pocket of her jeans closest to him, Rick urged her closer. "I see what I can do," he murmured.

With a smile, Georgie placed her hands on his shoulders and let out a contented breath. "Moments like this I can almost forget what anything bad has happened and _is_ happening."

Rick nodded in agreement. "Tell me about," he remarked. "If I could, I'd never leave this room. I'd stay naked and buried between your legs twenty-four seven."

"Sounds ideal."

"No. Ideal would also include a quiet hotel room with a beach view somewhere tropical, room service and in-room massage therapy."

Georgie almost chuckled at the imagery. "That is definitely ideal."

Stepping over to his side of their lack of bed, Rick crouched down and picked up his utility belt he'd removed before setting up their new sleeping arrangement. Slipping it on around his waist, he looked over at Georgie and watched her watching him.

"You're not going alone, are you?" Georgie asked, getting back on subject in regard to the supply run.

"No," he shook his head. "I'll take someone with me."

"Take Michonne. She'd be pretty useful, especially since we're without guns."

"I doubt I'm her favorite person right now."

"She doesn't hate you because of what's happening. She's just frustrated," Georgie insisted. "I heard you and her talking. I know she understands your side of things. She listened and heard you out and didn't argue any further. I wouldn't call that thinking of you as her least favorite person. That position is filled at the moment by He Who Shall Not Be Named."

"That's a Harry Potter reference, isn't it?" Rick questioned, meandering over toward their door as Georgie began to follow after him.

"You picked up on that?"

"I have a teenage son. I've watched the movies with him."

Georgie smirked as they made their way downstairs together. "Too bad the world ended before the last two films were released."

"I suppose if I really wanted to know what happened in the end, I could just pick up the last book and read it," Rick remarked. Then, he added, "If I ever had the time for such a luxury. I swear, I'm busier now than before the apocalypse."

At the base of the stairs, Rick rounded the corner first and stepped into the kitchen where he found Michonne doing the dishes. On further inspection, it seemed she was distracted by her own thoughts and was washing the same coffee cup over and over. He frowned and turned his attention toward the living room as Georgie stepped up from behind him with a slight limp in her step from her gunshot wound which was still healing. Finding the downstairs living and dining areas empty, Rick brought his attention back toward Michonne.

"Carl still not back yet?"

"Still with Enid."

Rick nodded. "I'm going on a run in a little bit. Should only be gone a day," he informed. "Would you want to come?"

Michonne stopped washing the cup, pulling it out from under the stream of running water, and turned to look briefly at Rick before shaking her head. "No, I have some other things I need to take care of here."

Rick accepted her response and didn't push it further. Throwing a look at Georgie, it was almost as if he was telling her 'I told you so'. "I'm gonna go find Carl," he remarked, mostly to her. "I might see if Aaron will come with me."

Georgie nodded. "Okay."

Patting her arm, Rick leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Be right back." Leaning in closer, he whispered, "And, I love you."

Georgie smiled as he stepped away from her and eyed her knowingly. She mouthed the words 'I love you, too' back to him before watching him turn and walk out the front door.

* * *

Rick, Carl, Georgie, Michonne and Aaron were all standing in Carl's bedroom a short while later; the teen having been brought back home by his father. Aaron had agreed to come with Rick on the supply run and stood quietly in the doorway with a packed bag over his shoulder, waiting for when Rick was ready to head on out. Carl didn't seem all too pleased and that was one of the reasons why Rick had decided he would extend the invitation to join the supply run to his son. They needed to talk about some issues between them, and he wanted to involve his son in more things now; give him more responsibility.

"You could come with us," Rick remarked.

"Someone's gotta be here for Judith," Carl replied, tossing a dart at his dartboard, but missing — again — and instead hitting the wall…again.

"Georgie's here for that. And there's other people who want to help. We'll only be gone a few days at most. I'm hoping we can get back by tomorrow night at the earliest," Rick continued, watching the way his son avoided looking at him and instead continued to throw darts, which were there for him to work on his eye coordination. "We need the supplies. They're gonna be back soon."

"Is this how it's gonna be from now on?" Carl barked.

"_Yes_. It is. You know that."

Another dart was thrown, and hit the wall.

With a slump in his shoulders and a heavy sigh, Carl stalked forward and began pulling the darts out of the wall. "See you in a few days," the teen muttered; his tone of voice so terribly moody that it was such a teenage cliché.

Looking between the adults in the room, Rick placed his hands on his hips before focusing on Aaron last. "We should get going," he announced, walking out of his son's room without as much as a goodbye.

"He'll come around," Aaron assured, quietly.

Rick caught his eye as he stepped past him, but wasn't holding his breath anytime soon. Raising a teenager for the first time was hard enough, and doing it in an apocalyptic world was worse.

As the adults slipped out into the upstairs hallway, Aaron caught Rick's eye again. "I'll, uh, meet you downstairs."

As Aaron walked off, Michonne walked up next.

"If you change your mind," Rick spoke, handing her a walkie-talkie, "we're headed north."

"Good luck," she replied.

With a slight nod, he cast his eyes lastly upon Georgie who stood a few feet off to the side, with her arms folded across her chest. "C'mere," he beckoned to her with a curl of an index finger.

Walking up to him as Michonne took her leave to follow after Aaron, Georgie found herself directly in front of Rick as he shifted the bag on his shoulder.

"I'll see you soon," he whispered.

Rick leaned in to kiss her upon the cheek, but Georgie brought her hands up; directing his face forward and bringing him in for a proper kiss goodbye. It was soft and deep, and full of yearning for more. It was a lovely mix of soft lips, warm breaths and moist tongues that alighted their senses. Rick found he could very easily disappear into her lips and forget the world around them completely, while her fingers grazed the scratchy salt and pepper hairs of his beard like a child finding comfort in its security blanket. After a few moments, when they found the willpower to separate, Rick breathed out a shaky breath against her lips and brushed his nose against her nose.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing his forehead briefly to hers.

"I love you, too."

Without another word, Rick forced himself to walk away.

* * *

"Why didn't you go with my dad?"

It was barely twenty minutes since Rick and Aaron had left. Carl was sitting backwards in one of the dining table chairs, watching as Michonne reached for her sheathed katana and picked it up off the end table beside the couch.

"I have to figure some things out."

"What is there to figure out?" the teen implored, standing up and following after her as she walked toward the kitchen island.

"How we can do this," she replied, stuffing items into a satchel, like the walkie-talkie Rick had given her. "If we can."

"We _can't_. No, not like this."

Michonne took two water bottles off the counter behind her and stuffed them into the satchel as well; her gaze not fully reaching Carl. "Your dad thinks differently."

"And he's _wrong_. You _know_ it," he insisted.

"Even if I _think_ he is…" she started to say, heading for the front door and throwing the strap of the satchel around her. "I don't _know_. Change your bandage later, and be _nice_ to Georgie."

Georgie had heard the conversation.

She was standing on the second last step on the staircase, with Judith in her arms; the little girl very much awake and ready for dinner. Georgie listened to Carl talking with Michonne, and heard Michonne leave the house. Just as she stepped out into the kitchen so it didn't look like she was eavesdropping, she saw the teen heading for the front door as well.

"Uh, where you headed?"

"Out," he answered with an ounce of moodiness in his voice.

"Out where?"

Carl turned around abruptly and it truly looked like he wanted to snap at her, but then he remembered how guilty he'd felt about it that morning; about telling her she wasn't his mother. He truly liked Georgie, loved her like family and respected her. He was fine with her with his father, had accepted his mother was gone and his father had the right to move on and find love again, but virtually new in his life, even though so much had happened that brought all of them so much closer together. He appreciated the way she cared for Judith and him like they were her own, and he hoped someday he might be able to view her the same way.

Right now, he just didn't want to have this mother-son type of banter with her.

"Out with Enid," he replied, with a considerably more civil tongue.

Shifting Judith on her hip, Georgie nodded and accepted his answer. "I don't know what I'm gonna throw together for dinner yet, but don't be out too late. Okay?"

Even though he couldn't be sure he could keep that promise, he nodded and made it anyway. "Yeah, sure." With a half-smile, Carl turned and darted out the door.

Georgie frowned and looked at Judith, who was looking back at her with an expression so similar it made her laugh a little. "Brothers, huh?"

Judith seemed to catch her drift and bobbed her head. She then proceeded to pull her pacifier out of her mouth and toss it to the ground as she babbled in a whiny voice and began to throw her weight to signify she wanted to be put down. Georgie obliged the girl, who was still wobbly as she walked, and set her down on her two feet. As she made her way to the cupboard to the fridge for figure out what to give Judith for dinner, the girl hobbled over on uncertain legs and grabbed onto Georgie's pant legs, gripping as tightly as she could while pushing herself forward to peer inside the fridge, too, as if she was helping.

"What do you say, Judy? How about some crackers and I'll cut up apple pieces for you. That sound like a plan?"

Judith craned her head and peered upward. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, too bad. That's what you're gonna get and you're gonna like it."

Moving Judith safely out of the way so she could shut the fridge door, Georgie made her way toward the bowl of apples on the island and set one aside and then moved toward the cupboard she knew contained a box of crackers. All the while, Judith remained at the fridge and was now smacking the palms of her hands against the stainless steel surface.

"Bah bah gah…"

"Oh, really?"

Judith turned around, looked at Georgie and then looked over her shoulder as if expecting someone there. Holding a hand out with her palm up, she frowned. "Dada?"

"Dada went bye-bye for a little while," Georgie replied, carrying on a conversation with a toddler; something she had plenty of experience with, so this was old hat. "He'll be back soon, though."

_I hope_, she thought.

As Georgie went about cutting up the apple on the kitchen, Judith crouched down and picked her pacifier up off the floor and popped it into her mouth. Albeit muffled, her words were still heard as she began to toddle forward and grabbed onto Georgie's pant leg again.

"Mama…mama…" When she pressed her face against Georgie's leg, a succession of gibberish spilled out that made Georgie smile and forget about everything else she was currently worrying about.

"I love you, too, Judith."

"Mama…bah gah daba nah nah abba dada…"

Georgie looked down at the little girl and smiled even more.

* * *

Hours passed since Judith had been fed and Carl had yet to return home. Michonne hadn't either, but she was an adult who could take care of herself, so Georgie wasn't too concerned there. Carl, on the other hand, was another story. After giving Judith a bath and changing her into fresh pajamas, Georgie sat downstairs on the couch reading to Judith from a picture book. When Judith's head began to bob and she began rubbing her eyes, Georgie took that as a perfect sign to take Judith up to bed for the night. The little girl fussed and climbed up, trying to avoid going to asleep even though she was clearly tired. After about thirty minutes of coaxing and brushing her hair with her hand, Georgie was able to finally leave the room; convinced Judith had given up by then and was allowed the Sandman to take hold.

The first thing Georgie did was head downstairs with the baby monitor, which she set down on the kitchen counter and plugged into the wall socket. Once it was all set up, she stepped out the front door and onto the porch, looking up at the dark purple sky and then up the street where several homes had turned on their lights for the evening.

Feeling nervous, she stepped back inside and unplugged the baby monitor, knowing its battery still had plenty enough charge to it for her to walk around freely with it. But unplugging it had been for a specific reason. Georgie went back out the front door, which she closed, but not all the way. Quickly and quietly she hurried down the front steps and darted next door and let herself in.

On the couch, she found Eugene watching _The Empire Strikes Back_ on DVD and he practically jumped out of his skin. Popcorn from the bowl on his lap even toppled out in his surprise.

"Whoa, you scared the Dickens out of me," he muttered, turning around to properly look at her. "Something up?"

"Is Carl here?"

"Uh, no, not that I am aware of."

Georgie sighed. "Have you seen him around at all?"

"No."

"Shit. What about Enid—have you seen _her_?"

"I can say with certainty that I have not." Eugene frowned. "Did something happen?"

"I told him to be home for dinner and it's been hours, and now it's dark."

"You know they like to go outside the walls together, hanging out, doing teenage stuff? Like, reading books and making out, probably."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Them making out?"

"No," Georgie rolled her eyes. "That they went outside the walls, especially now, what with everything going on." With stressed sigh, she cast her eyes distractedly up toward the TV screen at the scene where the AT-ATs are firing lasers at the Rebel Alliance during the Battle of Hoth. "Will you do me a favor? Go next door and stay there, keep an ear out for Judith. She's asleep, so she won't be any trouble." Tossing the baby monitor over the couch as Eugene caught it. "I'm gonna go look around for Carl."

Eugene nodded adamantly, grabbing the remote in one hand and pausing the movie before getting up to follow Georgie out of the house without missing a beat.

As Eugene turned right to head up into her house, Georgie turned left and began to walk up the road toward the intersection. No longer bothered by the blue house she had lived in with Jake and Tristan, she ran up the steps to it first and let herself in, calling out Carl's name, but getting no reply. Certain that he would've replied were he there, Georgie deduced Carl wasn't and left. She began going door to door, asking if anyone had seen Carl.

Since she had left the house without Rick's set of keys to the armory and pantry, she needed to go get Olivia to open it up to see if maybe Carl was there. Which he wasn't.

Gabriel had seen her walking around, having been peering out one of the church windows at the right moment and came outside to join her in her search.

"How can I help?" he asked.

"Grab me a flashlight and a pair of binoculars. Meet me at the main gate."

"Are you going outside the walls? Do you need a knife, too?"

Georgie considered that option, and shook her head. "No, the flashlight and binoculars will be fine."

Georgie and Gabriel parted ways, with him heading home to get those items he had while she walked along the road in front of the townhouses and until it curved and opened up toward the front of Alexandria where the main gate was. Scott was up on top of the lookout post, taking watch; which was somewhat pointless now that they had no guns. He was just standing up there, looking out into the darkness, nursing a travel mug of what was most likely coffee.

"Hey," Georgie called up to him, catching his attention immediately, since there was clearly nothing else catching his attention outside the walls.

"Hey," he greeted back.

"Have you seen Carl, or even Enid?"

He shrugged. "Nah, not since this afternoon when that asshole was here. Something wrong?"

Georgie placed her hands on her hips and sighed. Stepping forward, she walked over to the ladder and began to climb up to the top of the post; taking Scott's hand as he offered it. And she appreciated the gesture, especially with having to put extra weight on her right leg in the process.

Standing there beside Scott now, she looked out into the darkness before them, down at the burned out ruins of the houses on the other side of the wall, the cars decorated with sharpened spikes to impale approaching walkers. There was no moon out, which made it even darker. The only light came from the stars and they provided next to nothing.

"I think Carl may have snuck out of Alexandria."

"Huh. That would explain where that other car went."

Georgie whipped her head toward Scott. "What car?"

Pointing outside the gate and up the road. "You can't see it now, 'cause it's too dark, but there's usually a car parked beyond the ones with the spikes. Its' one of our extras to use in case we can't get to the cars inside Alexandria. I noticed it missing when I came on watch but I just assumed Rick and Aaron took it on their supply trip."

"They took a box truck."

"Yeah, but I figured maybe one was driving the truck, and the other took the car. That way they could bring back more supplies."

Georgie leaned forward, gripping the top of the metal wall. "_Fuck_," she groaned. "Why can't that boy stay in the house?"

"Georgie!" Gabriel's voice rang out.

Turning around and looking down, Georgie spotted the pastor down below the lookout post, brandishing a flashlight and binoculars.

"Catch!"

Preparing herself, she held her hands out as Gabriel tossed the flashlight up first. When she caught it, she handed it off to Scott and then waited as Gabriel repeated the process with the binoculars. "Thank you but, maybe next time, carry bring them up? If I'd dropped them they'd have broken."

Gabriel winced. "Right. Sorry." Then, "Do you see anything?"

Taking the flashlight and clicking it on with one hand, she used the other to hold the binoculars up. Georgie aimed the flashlight around the area just outside the wall to literally shed light onto the situation, but saw nothing that helped her. She did, however, somewhat notice the spot that Scott had been mentioning about where the missing car should've been.

Frowning a deep frown, Georgie lowered the binoculars and turned off the flashlight. "Shit."

"What are you gonna do?" Scott wondered.

"There's nothing I _can_ do right now," she replied, her shoulders slumping. "I think that boy is gonna give me more grey hairs than his father has."

* * *

That night, Georgie barely slept at all and it had nothing to do with nightmares. In fact, for the first time since returning to Alexandria after their brutal, dual losses, she didn't have a single bad dream. However, her brain was so wired with worry over Carl that sleeping was quite the laborious chore. She also couldn't bring herself to sleep in her own room without Rick there, so she brought a pillow and blanket quietly into Judith's room and laid down on the floor there to sleep, even though she spent most of the time just staring through the dark, up at the ceiling, while listening to Judith's gentle snoring.

At the first glimpse of daylight trying to work its way into the small, closet of a bedroom, Georgie was up and went to take a shower in her and Rick's master bathroom before changing into some clean clothes. Judith woke up a short while after that, so they started the day together.

Carl hadn't come home, Michonne hadn't come home.

It was just Georgie and Judith, together, and the entire time Georgie was so plagued with worry and a horrible feeling of dread in her stomach that something bad had either happened or was about to.

The one good thing that happened that morning was that Tara had returned home. Although, it meant she would be told about Denise's death, as well as Glenn and Abraham's, and how Negan had taken Daryl as his slave, more or less, and Carol and Morgan were just MIA, while Maggie and Sasha were at Hilltop. Mostly, it was the deaths that would haunt Tara.

Eventually the younger woman came 'round to see Georgie; needing someone to hang around with since Rosita and Eugene had apparently left Alexandria to go find supplies. Gabriel and Spencer had also gone out, too, which sounded like an odd combo to Georgie.

"How was your supply trip?" Georgie asked while Judith played with her beloved red Solo cups on the living room floor. All the baby toys they'd acquired for her, and that's what she always wanted to play with. Georgie was nursing a cup of coffee and Tara was doing the same as both women sat on opposite ends of the couch; avoiding the elephant in the room which was the topic of the recent deaths.

"It kinda sucked ass," Tara replied bluntly. "We didn't find much of anything. We were about to head back and these walkers came out of a pile of sand on this bridge. I got separated from Heath when I fell off the bridge and into water. I washed ashore on some frickin' beach. I, uh, found shelter and made my way back to the bridge, but I don't know where he is. I assume he's alive because the RV was gone. He must've thought I died after falling. I don't blame him. I just hope he's alright. I'm just worried because he hasn't made it back here yet."

"He will," Georgie assured, but her voice held little conviction. Her mind was still too preoccupied with where Carl was and if he was alright. She hadn't even had time to worry about whether or not Rick was alright; she was so focused on his son.

"So, Rick's on a supply trip with Aaron, huh?"

Georgie nodded.

"Where's Michonne? Carl?"

"Don't know, and don't know. They both took off yesterday after Rick left. Michonne, I'm not worried about, but Carl promised he'd be home for dinner and he never came back, but wherever he went, he went with Enid and I think he stole one of our cars outside the walls that just so happens to be missing."

"Welcome to the life of raising a teenager," Tara attempted to joke. "This is about the age teens get rebellious, take their parent's car and go joyriding. You and Rick just have the added bonus of walkers and The Saviors to make things worse."

"You're not helping."

Tara frowned. "My bad. I'm just deflecting. I don't know what else to talk about so I don't talk about, you know…the _other_ stuff."

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

* * *

By mid-afternoon, Georgie had put Judith down for a nap and was try find something, anything, to occupy her time. She once again had the baby monitor plugged into the wall socket nearest the fridge and had helped herself to a second cup of coffee since she was the only one home to enjoy it. She'd cut up an apple into slices and that's all she ate for lunch. She even flipped through one of Judith's picture books while sitting at the dining table, until she closed it and just began to stare off into space; lost in her thoughts and worries yet again.

The abrupt knocking at the front door snapped her out of her daydreams after a while. Turning in her chair, Georgie knitted her brow together and stood up. The pleated blinds on the door were pulled down, obscuring any view of who was on the other side and she thought little of who it would be. Assuming that maybe it was just Tara again, bored and come for another visit, Georgie willingly pulled the door open without a care in the world.

And then she regretted it.

Georgie could practically hear her heart pounding in her chest as she found herself face to face with Negan who was holding Lucille and grinning at her. "D'ya miss me?"

Without hesitation, he walked right in and she was left with no choice but to step aside. What's more is that Carl was there, too, without the bandage wrapped around his head to cover his exposed, empty eye socket, and now walking into the house and staring guiltily back at Georgie.

"Carl—where have you _been_?" she whispered.

"I'm fine," he assured, calmly.

Off this, Georgie closed the door as Negan strutted around, taking in the downstairs interior.

"Great, great, great, great, great, _great_!" He licked his lips and smirked at Georgie. "Where's Rick?"

Georgie hesitated, trying to find her voice, before finally answering, "Out scavenging for you."

"Cool," Negan beamed. "I'll wait."

"Well…he went out pretty far. They might not be back today."

_Hint, hint: get the fuck out of here because you're not wanted_, she thought.

Her nerve endings felt like they were on fire as she spoke to him, and she hated the way his eyes bore into hers; his gaze never faltering. She felt like a side of beef and he was a man who'd been without a meal for weeks. She had to force herself to appear as calm and collected as possible. She tried to picture Negan as Jake and how she'd finally decided to fight back against him. Of course, that had resulted in him knocking her unconscious and raping her while she was out, but that was the strength she needed right now.

"We're running really low on everything. We're practically starving here."

"Well, that's probably because you have a fat chick in charge of your food pantry," Negan quipped. "_Probably_ not the best idea ever."

Georgie merely stared back at him, doing her best not to let her own gaze falter.

"So, Red—did I ever get your actual name? I think it's kind of rude of me to not ask."

"It's Georgie."

"That _short_ for something?"

"Georgianna."

Negan grinned, licking his lips again. "Now _that's_ a name. Also a mouthful so I could see how you'd prefer Georgie instead, and say, off topic—" he changed subject mid-sentence, "—have you given any more thought to my offer from yesterday? You'd make a fantastic wife, I'm sure of it. I don't have any redheads." He stepped up so close to her that she could feel his breath on her neck as she turned her face slightly away. "Kinda makes me wonder if the carpet matches the drapes. And, since I'm gonna be here for a while, awaiting your fearless leader's return, maybe you and I can kill some time together. If you'd _like_…_I_ think it would be enjoyable to fuck your brains out. I mean, if, you know, you're agreeable to it."

Before Georgie even realized what she was doing, she had lifted her hand and slapped Negan so hard across his face, his head jerked back, and there was no way he didn't feel that sharp sting. Georgie sure felt it resonate on her hand.

Part of her was excited by what she'd just done; taking pleasure in causing him the tiniest bit of pain. But then there was the more reasonable part of her that was screaming she had just fucked up.

Georgie immediately tensed.

She expected Negan to look back at her with anger in his eyes, to slap her back or worse; kill her.

Instead, he looked back at her as if he were impressed.

Licking his lips, he leaned forward and whispered. "I don't think it's possible for me to be any more into you right now," he chuckled as she leaned back from him. "Just sayin'." Catching her drift that she was not into him and not bothering to push the subject any further, at least for the time being, Negan turned slightly and gestured toward the couch. "Alright, well, I'm just gonna put my feet up and wait for my stuff to get here." He turned slightly, looking at Carl for a moment and then turned back to Georgie. "Red—I mean, Georgie. Would you be a lamb and make us a little lemonade? Now, I know I left y'all some of that good, powdered stuff."

Georgie hesitated. She knew that Judith was upstairs and couldn't leave her alone in the house with Negan there, even though Carl was. "I need to—"

"_Make it_," Negan growled. Then, a little more softly, he repeated, "Make it. Take your time. Make it _good_."

Flashing a knowing look to Carl, Georgie had to trust he knew Judith was in the house and to take care of her. Georgie was in no position to tempt Negan's wrath. After a little more hesitation on her part and after an assuring nod from the teenager, Georgie turned and hurried out the front door.

Her mind was suddenly blank but her body was on autopilot as she was greeted by the fresh air outside, which she welcomed completely. As she rushed down the stairs from the porch, despite wanting to be far away from Negan, all Georgie wanted to do was go back inside the house to get Carl and Judith and make some sort of run for it. It was an illogical thought, but the fantasy of being able to do it help push aside some of the dark dread she was feeling.

Heading up the road, she had one of those moments from the other world, when she'd be driving somewhere and suddenly black out. Not literally black out, as in pass out, but when she'd be so distracted with thoughts or the lack thereof that she seemed to lose a chunk of time and not realize she'd gotten to a certain destination already. She could've sworn she had literally stepped off the last step from the porch, but yet here she was, at the front door of the townhouse that led to the pantry.

She passed the room that used to be the armory, which was now void of all the weapons they'd had up until the day before, and continued downstairs toward the garage where the pantry was. Perusing the shelves quickly and carefully, she soon came upon the container of lemonade mix and gripped it in her hands. Spinning around on the balls of her feet, she retreated out of the garage and retraced her steps out of the townhouse and up the road. She was so distracted with getting back to her house that she wasn't even sure she shut the townhouse door behind her.

On the street, she passed several Saviors but not a one seemed too interested in her. Her fellow Alexandrians she could tell were out on their porches, wondering why the Saviors were back and looking to her for answers, what with most of the leadership of their community being gone. And being that she was Rick's ladylove and had more than once thrown her own weight around to oversee things getting down within the community, it wasn't too farfetched that she would be next in line when it came to leadership.

In fact, she was correct in that assumption when Tobin came hurrying up to her just before she passed the infirmary.

"Georgie, what do we do?" he inquired, his voice sounding quite nervous.

"Just go home. I'm taking care of this," she replied.

But was she _really_?

She held no real power, at least not while Negan was there. _Especially_, with Negan there.

_I got this_, she told herself. _I can do this._

She made it back to the house and walked right in but didn't see Negan or Carl anywhere, but she did hear footsteps upstairs and her heart began beating wildly in her chest. She was looking up at the ceiling as if she'd somehow be able to look through it with x-ray vision and see whatever was going on. What she really wanted to do was go upstairs and see for herself, and drag Negan away, but she was expected to make fucking lemonade.

Setting the container on the counter, she finally paused; not even realizing that, from all her hurrying, she was out of breath and her right leg was aching from all the weight she'd put upon it. Sucking in some deep, steadying breaths and pushing past that ache, using it to push her forward, Georgie went about grabbing the glass pitcher out of one of the cupboards and placed it under the ice dispenser on the freezer door. As the ice cubes began to tumble out, the sharp clatter that made, hitting the bottom of the glass pitcher echoed quite loudly throughout the downstairs but Georgie wasn't bothered by it. She next set the pitcher in the island sink and turned on the cold water, letting it fill up while uncapping the lemonade container. After turning off the water and dumping in the amount of mix meant for that pitcher size, she took a wooden spoon and began stirring it thoroughly all together and then taste-testing it to make sure it wasn't too bland and not too sweet either.

Satisfied that Negan would be satisfied, Georgie lifted the pitcher out of the sink and onto the island top with both hands, and then waited.

She began to wish she had some sort of roofie to put in his cup when he took a drink so that he'd pass out and she could kill him. She stood there, thinking of ways to make it look like an accident so the other Saviors wouldn't retaliate against her. While he was unconscious, maybe she could bash him really hard on the back of the head with something that was somewhat sharp and then wipe his blood on the corner of the kitchen island and bring down one of Judith's toys and pretend he accidentally stepped on the toy, lost his balance and hit his head so hard that he died. Or maybe she could snap his neck and position him at the base of the stairs with said toy. When he reanimated, so be it. Killing him twice or at least seeing him die twice would be a pleasure. She knew Carl would help her in a heartbeat, so any lifting or carrying of Negan's body wouldn't be that bad at all. Actually, Carl might have some ideas on how to do it, too.

"This little one is the cutest little darling I ever did see, I swear. Don't look much like daddy, though, does she?" Negan suddenly appeared around the corner and in the kitchen, holding Judith in one arm while still managing to hold Lucille in his other hand.

Despite Georgie's displeasure, she took comfort in that Judith didn't seem upset.

Maybe that made it worse.

Weren't children and animals alike, in that they were supposed to sense evil?

"Must look a lot like mommy," Negan continued, eyeing Georgie and giving her a once over. "And that ain't you, is it? You look nothing like this little one, either."

Georgie shook her head. "No, I'm not her mother. I just care for her."

Throwing a look over his shoulder, Negan eyed Carl, who was trailing behind and seemed just as anxious as Georgie about Negan holding Judith. "Her mom must be your mom, then? The one you killed?"

Carl clenched his jaw. "Yes."

"Who was daddy?" Negan questioned, puckering his lips and giving Judith a kiss on the forehead.

"_Rick_ is her father," Georgie insisted. Genetics be damned, and Negan didn't deserve any other explanation.

Bringing his attention back to her, Negan nodded, and then settled his eyes upon the pitcher of lemonade. "Ahh, wonderful," he beamed. "And, is that…did you add _ice_? Well, _ho-ly_ _shit_. You are a _very_ gracious host, aren't you? _Very_ accommodating; I _like_ that. Fuck. _Ice._ Details like _that_ are _important._ I can't remember the last time I had ice in a fucking drink." Then, looking as if he'd left the oven on back home, he stared at Judith. "Oh, pardon my French, sweetheart. Don't repeat any of that. Wouldn't want to piss off daddy." Chuckling, Negan gestured toward the pitcher. "Why don't you continue being that gracious host and bring that outside with some cups, won't you, Georgie? I'd like to enjoy my lemonade on the front porch. C'mon, Carl. Come join me and your sister."

Georgie watched as Negan walked out the front door with Carl in two; the latter throwing a look of solidarity her way before walking out onto the front porch as well. Not wasting time, Georgie removed two glasses from the cupboard and stacked them one inside the other so that it was easier to carry them in one hand while she carried the pitcher outside as well.

With a burdened sigh, she walked out onto the porch to find Negan settling into one of the two rocking chairs. A third was off to the side, just behind Carl. A small wooden table sat between Negan and Carl, which was where Lucille was propped against while Judith was propped against Negan's chest. Judging by the way the little girl rested easily against him, she was clearly still tired and would've rested anywhere at this point.

At least, that's what Georgie hoped.

She hoped Judith wasn't taking an immediate liking to Negan.

"Fill up our glasses, doll. And get a sippy cup for Judith here. I think she'd like some lemonade." Though it was posed as politely as can be, it was still a command.

Taking a deep breath, Georgie walked in front of Negan and set the glasses down. Removing one from the other, she filled the first glass and set it down, then repeated the process with the second glass. Setting the pitcher down between the glasses, her eyes flitted toward Lucille, and how she'd love to grab at it and whack him over the head, but he was holding Judith and couldn't put the little girl in danger like that. So, Georgie went back into the house, found a clean sippy cup and brought it outside to fill it up as well.

"Thank you kindly," Negan remarked with a smile, watching the way Georgie step aside and kept her gaze primarily focused on Judith. "She's fine, darling. Take a seat. There's another chair."

Clenching her jaw, Georgie walked behind Negan's chair, suddenly very aware of the ache in her right leg as she limped a little to the third rocking chair behind Carl. Sitting down really was a great relief and she was thankful of it, but she was sitting so upright, as if she was ready to jump to her feet at any moment, that there was no way for Negan to tell she was relieved.

Lifting his glass up, Negan brought it to his lips and hesitated; enjoying to cold vapor coming off the bobbing ice in his drink. He smiled and then took hefty gulp. After swallowing it back, he swirled his tongue around his, over his teeth and then set the glass down. Shooting Georgie a look over his shoulder, he grinned. "_That_ was refreshing. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied quietly.

Carl was still just sitting there in silence, having not touched his own lemonade yet, and with his chair turned so his lone eye could better watch Negan with his sister.

Negan began to hum. "Oh, this little girl is precious," he muttered, as an Alexandrian came walking between the main house and the one next door, and looking confused at why Negan was there, holding Judith. Negan, spotting the man, nodded politely to him. "Hey, neighbor," he waved. "Why don't you come by later? We might _grill_ out." With a chuckle, he returned his hand to Judith's back, holding her there. "Oh, I _like_ it here. Mm-hmm. I might just have to _stay_ here. You know, I was thinking about what you said earlier, Carl. Maybe it _is_ stupid keeping you and your dad alive." Shifting Judith around in his lap, he lifted her up and sat her on his knee, bouncing her slightly, as he spoke in a way that made it look like he was directing the conversation to her instead of her big brother. "I mean, why am _I_ trying so hard? Maybe I should just bury you both down in one of those flower beds. Huh? And then I could just settle into the suburbs. What do you think about that?" Negan chuckled and leaned in toward Judith's face; brushing his nose against hers before planting a kiss on her forehead.

_Over my dead body_, Georgie thought_. Better yet: over yours._


	42. We Shall Endure

**Author's Note: Nothing much to say here other than ENJOY! And, woo hoo**—**TWD returns next week! As always, please _R&amp;R!_**

**_xoxo —Holly_**

* * *

"_We draw our strength from the very despair in which we have been forced to live. We shall endure." _— Cesar Chavez

* * *

Standing at the kitchen sink, Georgie was mindlessly washing the out the glasses Negan and Carl had drank their lemonade from while the pitcher was not sitting in the fridge to keep cool. The sound of the water running was like white noise to her as she stared out the window and at the side of the house next door; all the while the dread in her stomach felt like it was eating her alive. All she could think about at the moment was how Negan was upstairs in her and Rick's bathroom, with both children, because he apparently wanted to teach Carl how to shave. While he was doing that, he wanted Georgie to clean up the downstairs a bit and then go get ingredients for making spaghetti. So, she had straightened the pillows on the couch, emptied her discard coffee cup from earlier that had been sitting on the dining table and cleaned that along with the other glasses. While she dried those glasses and set them aside to likely be used later, Georgie gave a look around the kitchen one last time and then walked toward the front door.

The anxiousness she was feeling seemed to get worse as she stepped out of the house; knowing she was forced to leave the kids behind with Negan again.

She wished they had everything they'd need for spaghetti already in the house, but such was not the case, unfortunately. Georgie wasn't even sure if the pantry would have what was needed. She might have to go door to door. Just outside the house, two Saviors stood as lookout to make sure not just anyone approached the house with their beloved dictator inside. The female, Arat, Georgie had remembered from the day before.

Passing Arat, Georgie ignored her and kept her gaze forward with her arms down at her sides and her fists balled tight. Before she even made it to the Pantry, Tara was coming out of the Infirmary where she lived now and sidled up next to Georgie with a look of concern on her face.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Negan is teaching Carl how to shave in my bathroom and he wants to cook spaghetti for dinner, but we don't have the supplies and I think I might freak out in a minute."

Placing an arm around Georgie's shoulders, Tara pulled her in for a side hug. "I'll help."

"No, that's okay," Georgie insisted. "I got this."

"Are you sure?"

"I just want to get this shit and get back to the house. I don't like leaving the kids alone with only him there."

"Why don't you just go home? I'll go to the Pantry for you and find the stuff to make spaghetti and then I'll bring it to you, okay?"

Georgie hesitated. "I don't know how he'll react to me coming back empty-handed."

"Well, you won't be. Not really, anyway. Tell him you delegated. Or, tell him the truth; that I offered to help." Moving to stand in front of Georgie, she gripped her hands and gave a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be okay. Go on. Go be there for your kids."

"They're not mine," Georgie said, Carl's words still in her head, even if he hadn't meant to say it, about her not being his mother, and then with Negan easily deducing she wasn't the mother of Judith. With Rick gone right now, it made those details about her relationship to his kids more apparent.

"Those two are every bit your kids. Don't think otherwise." Leaning in and giving Georgie a comforting hug, she whispered, "Go home."

After another moment of hesitation, Georgie caved against Tara's offer and retreated back down the road to her house. Again, she avoided looking at either Arat or the other Savior standing guard and focused on what she'd say if and when Negan demanded where the supplies were. However, when she got inside, Negan didn't even seem to notice the lack of supplies when she walked through the front door and found him putting on one of the kitchen aprons and was instructing Carl to do the same with the second apron.

"Welcome home, honey. How was the office?" Negan inquired, turning his attention to her with a charming smile and then pointed between him and her. "See what I did there? I'm playing house."

Georgie nodded and then looked over at Carl while wondering where Judith was, and then noticing the toddler sitting in her high chair at the dining table with nothing but her own, little hands to occupy her. And, boy, did she look bored.

"Where's the noodles, the stuff for the sauce?" he finally asked, but he didn't seem angry. So, there was _that_ silver lining.

"I went looking and decided to delegate," she replied, repeating what Tara had told her to say. But then she needed to expand on it. "I figured it'd be better to have extra hands looking for the stuff and bringing it here. The Pantry might not have everything we need, but other residents might have it in their kitchens. Instead of me wasting your time knocking on doors by myself—"

"—you delegated." Negan winked at her. "I respect that." Turning around, he began opening cupboards and pulling out bowls and pots and utensils he'd need, and setting it all down on either the counter or the island. "What did you do before all this, Georgie, because there is an air of authority to you? I mean, you're good with kids. You're looking after Judith here, after all. Maybe a teacher, though I'm thinking maybe something higher up on the food chain, like a principal."

"I was a mother."

Negan paused and looked at her squarely in the eye. Then he looked at the fridge where two pictures were stuck with magnets. "Wait—are these two yours? The pictures here?"

Those pictures Georgie had kept with her, in her bra, for so long after leaving her house in Calhoun behind and had brought with her into the blue house, she had brought to this house and put the pictures on display, on the fridge, so she saw their faces every day as she came and went from the house. Both of their smiling faces in their respective photographs gave her something perfect and good to remember from the old world and carry with her always in the new world.

"Yes," Georgie replied. "They were mine."

"I take it they're gone now."

"They are."

"I won't bother asking how it happened. That would just be rude to make a mother relive that grief."

"It's not like I can forget it," Georgie shrugged.

"That's true." He didn't press her for that information, as he said he wouldn't. Instead, he turned his attention back to Carl as he began to dictate how they were gonna make rolls from scratch; his mother's recipe, apparently.

It was hard to believe Negan ever had a mother.

"Is…is there anything you need me to do?" Georgie asked, just standing there awkwardly in front of the door.

"We menfolk have it all taken care of here in the kitchen. Just do what you do best, and take care of Judith, and answer the door when our supplies arrive."

Georgie didn't hesitate then; going immediately up to Judith and lifting her out of the high chair and into her arms instead. The simple act of holding the little girl did wonders in calming her nerves quite a bit. She kissed the top of Judith's head and found solace in the way she leaned eagerly against her. Walking with her over to the couch, she sat down while listening to Negan droning on about how delicious fresh rolls would taste and how he could wait to get started on making the sauce because "that was the best part."

Eventually, the knock on the door came and Georgie was back up on her feet at a moment's notice. She cast a brief glance over at Negan and Carl, and saw Negan look back at her as he waited to see her answer the door.

Shifting Judith onto her hip, Georgie stepped outside onto the porch and found Olivia standing there rather than Tara, who she'd been expecting.

"I wanted to bring this stuff, personally," Olivia remarked, her eyes flitting nervously toward the door; knowing Negan was just inside. "You wouldn't have found this stuff anywhere in view on the Pantry shelves. I keep more things stored away to prevent everyone from taking too much all at once. If they see very little out, they won't be tempted to take more than they need." In her hands was a basket filled with a box of spaghetti noodles, two jars of Prego Traditional Italian Sauce, a can of mushrooms, along with an onion, some tomatoes, a green pepper, and fresh parsley. "I thought that some of the vegetables and herbs we got from the Hilltop might be a nice touch."

Georgie hadn't been expecting that much and felt guilty about what she was going to say next. "I hate to ask this of you, but could you carry it inside for me? That basket looks like it requires two hands and I already have one full with Judith here."

Olivia stared back with a look of subtle fear and hesitated to give an answer.

"If it helps any," Georgie lowered her voice. "I slapped him earlier and lived to tell the tale."

"You did?" Olivia's face practically lit up with joy. "How was it?"

"Scary, but also _incredibly_ satisfying."

"And he didn't hit you back or anything?"

Georgie shook her head. "I thought he might, or worse. But he didn't. I actually think he enjoyed it. He's probably the type that's into S&amp;M."

Olivia scrunched up her nose. "Okay. I'll just try and picture you slapping him over and over."

Watching as the other woman inhaled a deep breath, Georgie opened the door and let Olivia in.

"Olivia!" Negan greeted immediately. "Long time, no see. How's that inventory list doing? I bet a lot easier to take care of without all those pesky guns you have to keep track of, am I right?"

Georgie looked and saw the way Olivia began to clam up. Her lips pursed together and her chin trembled somewhat, like she was a child forced to look upon the monster under their bed.

"Y-yeah."

Slapping his hands together, Negan walked out from around the island. "So what have we got?" he wondered as he approached both women and looked down into the basket. Lifting up one of the tomatoes, he tossed it into the air and caught it. Leaning closer to Olivia's face, he grinned. "Fresh vegetables? _Very good_. I was expecting a box of noodles and a can of tomato paste. _This_ is going above and beyond, and for that, I'm extending a dinner invitation to you. And you might also consider it a formal apology for the way I scared the every living fuck out of you yesterday when I threatened to kill you."

As if he'd just made a fantastic joke, Negan chuckled and took the basket from Olivia's hands; leaving her stand there awkwardly while he returned over to the island with Carl.

"I really sh—" Olivia began to speak.

"Really," Negan stressed. "Stay." The charming smile he added at the end was like giving someone whiplash. His tone could be so threatening, but his smile was sunshine and butterflies. It certainly kept you on your toes.

Olivia looked at Georgie, who looked back guiltily; feeling terrible for asking Olivia to come in at all. She could've spared her being forced to endure Negan like this. But, a part of Georgie was happy to have Olivia there.

At least now she had someone else at her side right now.

* * *

When the meal was finished cooking, Negan had gone to take a seat at the head of the table with his back to the kitchen. From there he dictated to Carl to set the table with placemats, plates, cups, napkins and silverware. Olivia had taken over holding Judith from Georgie while Georgie went about getting the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and adding more water and mix to top it off. A plastic purple divided plate was even set up on the high chair for Judith.

At the table, there were four place settings; not including Judith. As Carl was reaching across to set the pairings of knives and forks beside the plates opposite him, Negan began to click his tongue.

"We're gonna need another setting."

With a roll of his only eye, Carl walked off toward the kitchen to get what he needed for this fifth setting, while Georgie walked over toward the table with the pitcher of lemonade. Ignoring the ache in her right thigh, she set the pitcher down on the table and watched as Olivia brought Judith over and set her down into her high chair. When Negan raised his glass and looked expectantly at Georgie, she sighed and lifted the pitcher back up and filled his glass with lemonade.

The entire time, he just smiled and chuckled to himself.

The fifth setting was placed at the opposite end of the table from Negan and that's where Georgie chose to sit so that she was closer to Judith to cut up her food for her, while Carl sat to the right of his sister, but also to the left of Negan. Olivia, unsurprisingly, opted to sit to the left of Georgie so that she could be are far down the table away from Negan as possible, which left the place setting to Negan's right empty.

The last thing was the platter of spaghetti that Carl carried over to the table and sat down in the center next to the basket of fresh rolls Georgie brought after filling everyone else's glasses with lemonade.

As they each sat down, they did so in silence.

Painfully, awkward silence.

Georgie wondered if Negan was waiting for someone to say grace.

He seemed to be staring over her head, above the windows at her back, with his lips pursed and his jaws clenched as he just sat there; waiting for something while tapping his fingers quietly upon the table. But no one dared say a word. No one was about to start eating until he did or said to.

Looking around the table at each person, Negan sighed. "I'm not waiting for you dad anymore," he said, looking to Carl. "I don't know where the fuck he is, but Lucille—" he lifted the bat from where it'd been at his side and set it in the empty chair, "—is hungry."

_Seriously_? He was _seriously_ expecting Rick to just show up in time for a dinner he didn't know was being prepared, by a man he didn't even know was in his home with his children?

Georgie looked across the table at Negan and watched him shake out his napkin and tuck it into the collar of his white shirt so he didn't stain it with sauce while he ate.

"Carl, pass the rolls." When the teen hesitated, Negan looked at him and smiled. "_Please_."

* * *

The meal, despite the awkwardness, really was delicious. Negan's only redeeming factor, in Georgie's eyes, was that he was a pretty damn good cook. Growing up, she had loved her mom's spaghetti and hated anyone else's. Even once she was married to Jake with her own family, her own spaghetti couldn't hold a candle to her mom's. Now there was Negan's and it definitely stood a fighting chance against how she remembered her mom's. Without butter, the rolls were bland, but the food was still good and even Judith seemed content with the bits of spaghetti that Georgie had cut up for her.

When he was finished eating, Negan had left the table for the others to clean up when Spencer's voice began wafting inside from the open front door.

"_No_."

"_I just want to talk to him."_

"_I said 'no'."_

Stepping out onto the porch, Negan held tightly onto Lucille with one hand while the other held his glass of lemonade. "Don't be an _asshole_, Arat. Let the man pass."

From inside the house, Georgie could hear footsteps up the stairs.

"Oh, crap. Is that for me?"

"We haven't officially met. I'm Spencer Monroe," Spencer's voice floated on the air and sounding much closer now. "Hi."

Georgie rolled her eyes, choosing to pay little mind to the conversation about to be held outside as she cast a glance over at Carl. "Take your sister out of her high chair and keep her busy while I clean up, okay?"

"I'll help you clean up," Carl asserted.

"And I appreciate that, but you had to endure making the meal with him," she spoke quietly. "I can endure cleaning it all up. Just keep your sister busy, and later we're gonna have a talk."

The look he gave her was a mix of guilt and amusement, while the look she gave him was a very motherly "go do as I say or I'll beat your ass" look. Not risking a possible tanned hide, Carl lifted Judith up into his arms and took her upstairs with the goal of cleaning her face and hands from eating and getting some toys for her to play with and then bring them downstairs so he didn't let Negan out of his sight for too long.

"I'll help you," Olivia offered, grabbing some plates up off the table and carrying them over to the sink.

"Thank you, but you don't have to," Georgie replied, making sure to keep her voice low for only Olivia to hear. "You've been stuck here long enough with him, and then yesterday on top of it. You can go home if you want."

"You shouldn't have to be here alone like this with him. Especially with the kids." Olivia attempted a smile. "I can endure _this_."

Placing the dishes into the sink, Georgie turned and embraced Olivia without warning. "I'm sorry we have to endure any of this."

Olivia took a moment to realize she was being hugged, but responded readily to the gesture and patted Georgie's back. "It's not something you need to apologize for. This was all going to happen sooner or later." As both women parted, Olivia shrugged. "If you, Rick and the others had never showed up, we would've probably never been prepared for the world outside."

Georgie sighed. "Lot of good it's done. We helped teach you to defend yourselves against people like the Saviors only to become oppressed by them in the end."

With a shake of her head, Olivia smiled. "It's not the end. As scary as it is right now, I think there's still hope to come out of the other side of this." She shifted her gaze toward the double doors that led out onto the porch where they could both see Negan sitting with Spencer, and enjoying what looked to be a bottle of some kind of liquor together. "Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished: but the seed of the righteous shall be delivered." She brought her gaze back to Georgie who was looking at her with an inquisitive eye. "Proverbs 11:21. I read a lot of everything in my downtime."

Georgie was never religious, but she sure did enjoy that Bible passage. With a nod, she remarked, "Even Hitler got his in the end."

"Exactly," Olivia agreed. "And Negan will get his."

* * *

Before long a crowd was gathering outside the house; a mix of Saviors brandishing weapons and Alexandrians brandishing their curiosity. The muted sounds of wood scuffing against pavement is what caught Georgie's attention as she walked over to the front door and pulled it open. Olivia was still at the sink but Carl was back from downstairs with Judith in his arms. Taking the child from his arms, Georgie relieved him of the task she'd given him, of keeping his sister busy, while she stepped out onto the porch and watched as a pool table from the garage across the street was being carried out into the middle of said street.

Negan was once again donning his leather jacket and handling a pool cue instead of Lucille, which he had propped up against the pool table. Across the table from him was Spencer; both men about to play together.

"What kind of Bizarro World are we in?" Georgie muttered.

Carl looked up at her with a small smirk.

"Fraternizing with the enemy," she continued to say, keeping her voice to a whisper.

As Olivia stepped outside and joined them on the porch, she stood there to the left of Georgie and seemed just as perplexed and curious about the pool game as everyone else. "Seriously?" she questioned. "Pool?"

Georgie looked at her and shrugged. "At least we can never say there's a dull moment around here."

"I'd give anything for dull again."

"I get what you're trying to do here, what you're trying to build," Spencer spoke, as Negan moved around to the side of the table to take a shot into a corner pocket, which he succeeded in. "I'm not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it. You're building a network. You're making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense. But you should know that Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others."

Georgie sneered. _Traitor_, she thought.

Negan cut in front of Spencer and knocked another ball in. "Is that so?"

"Rick wasn't the original leader here. My mom was. She was doing a really good job of it," Spencer continued to speak, adding chalk to the end of his cue. "Then she died, not long after Rick showed up — same with my brother, same with my dad."

Standing there, swirling around the contents of the alcohol in his glass, Negan leaned upon his own cue as he stared back at Spencer. "So, _everything_ was peachy here for — what — _years_? And then Rick shows up, and suddenly, you're an orphan? That is the saddest story I've ever heard. Good thing for you he's not in charge anymore."

Spencer leaned down and looked up before taking his shot. "Doesn't matter. His ego's out of control. He'll find a way to screw things up, to try and do things his way, to take over. That's what he did with my mom. That's what he'll do again."

Upon Spencer taking his shot, Negan sidled up to him, taking a sip of his drink. "What _exactly_ are you proposing be done about that?"

"I _am_ my mother's son," Spencer responded, standing up straight. "_I_ can be the leader she was. _That's_ what this place needs. That's what _you_ need."

"So I should put _you_ in charge. That's what you're saying?"

"We'd be much better off."

Both men began to move around the table, with each taking another shot apiece while everyone else still looked on, watching the game and listening to the conversation. Georgie held Judith tight in her arms, careful not to squeeze the girl's side too much out of the anger she was feeling over Spencer daring to go behind Rick's back like this. Carl seemed a bit pissed, too, judging by the way he was gripping onto the white, wooden railing.

"You know, I'm thinking, Spencer," Negan spoke. "I'm thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he _clearly_ hates my guts. But he is out there, _right_ now, _gathering_ shit for me to make sure I don't hurt _any_ of the _fine_ people that live here. He is _swallowing_ his _hate_ and _getting_ _shit_ _done_. That takes guts." Negan leaned forward and sunk a blue ball, along with the cue ball into a corner pocket. Setting the down his pool stick, he sauntered over to Spencer with his usual swagger. "And then there's you: the guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could _sneak_ over and talk to me, to get me to do his dirty work, so he could take Rick's place. So I got to ask — if you wanna take over, why not just _kill_ Rick yourself and _just_ _take_ _over_?"

"What? No, no. I didn't—I don't—" Spencer began to stutter.

"You know what I'm thinking? 'Cause I have a guess." He leaned in and whispered, "Because you have no guts."

Without warning, Negan pulled out a knife and stabbed Spencer deeply in the stomach and then sliced just as deeply to the right. Spencer gasped and hunched forward in sheer agony as he looked down and his blood and intestines began to tumble out of his body. He dropped to his knees, holding his own intestines in his hand; the realization that he was dying striking him like a bolt of lightning.

Everyone else had practically jumped out of their skin and gasped as well at the brutal attack. Not one person had been expecting something like that to happen.

As Spencer fell onto his side, spitting up blood, Negan just stared down at him without a care in the world. "Oh, how _embarrassing_. There they are. They were inside you the whole time. You _did_ have guts! I've _never_ been so wrong in my _whole_ life!" He turned around to look upon the faces staring back at him — his audience — with Spencer's blood splattered on his face and down the front of his crisp, white shirt. With a grin, he looked up toward the house, at Georgie and Carl; not Olivia so much. He didn't truly give a rat's ass about her. Walking around the pool table, he lifted up Lucille and suddenly seemed less jovial. "Now, someone oughta get up here and _clean_ _this_ _mess up_." Staring back at everyone, seeing no one move, he raised Lucille up and pointed it around. "Oh. Does anyone want to finish the game? C'mon. Anybody? _Anybody_? _C'mon_. I was winning."

In the blink of an eye, Rosita pulled a gun out from behind her back, aimed it at Negan and pulled the trigger; all without the least bit of hesitation.

Georgie's heart leapt into her throat and she unconsciously took a step back from the railing and clutched tighter at Judith. While the sound of the gunshot echoed and stung at the ears, there was a brief moment of joy that she felt when she thought Negan was shot and killed.

But, that was not to be the case.

Instead, the bullet simply lodged itself into Lucille, sending Negan into a rage as he looked upon it. "_Fuck_! What the _Fuck_?!"

Arat swatted Rosita's arm, knocking the gun out of her hand and then shoved Rosita back onto the ground where she lay pinned with a knife to her throat as Negan scrambled over to her with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice.

"Fuck! You just—you tried to fuckin' _kill _me?!" He stomped around and then turned back toward Rosita with the bat held high as if he was gonna bring it down on Rosita's skull. "You shot Lucille!"

"She got in the way," Rosita sneered.

Each and every present Alexandrian felt as if their hearts were gonna beat right out of their chests, preparing themselves to see Rosita killed next. Negan seemed to dial his rage back a few notches, but he still seethed as he bent down and picked up the bullet casing.

"What _is_ this? What _the fuck_ is this? This little bad boy made from _scratch_? Look at those crimps. _This_ was homemade," he deduced, his voice lowering as he kept his eyes trained on Rosita. "You may be fuckin' stupid, darlin', but you showed some _real_ ingenuity here. Arat, move that knife up out on that girl's face." Leaning down, getting close to her, he all but growled at her as he continued to speak. "Lucille's beautiful, _smooth_ surface is never gonna look the same, so _why the fuck should yours_?!" he shouted, standing back upright. "Unless…unless you tell me who _the fuck _made this."

"It was me. _I_ made it," she insisted.

"You see, _now_ I just think you're lying. And you lying to me _now_?! Such a fuckin' shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face. One more try."

"It was _me_," Rosita replied, leaning up into the blade, causing it to cut into the skin of her cheek.

"_Oh_! _You_ are _such_ a fuckin' _badass_!" Negan chuckled; smiling like it was Christmas morning. "Fine. Have it your way," he remarked. "Arat. Kill somebody."

Fear surged through everyone, especially Rosita as she screamed.

"No! It was _me_! _No_!"

Sitting up, back away from Rosita, Arat lowered her knife and grabbed for her gun. Without a moment's notice, she spun around toward Georgie, Carl and Olivia and pulled the trigger.

Georgie closed her eyes and continued holding onto Judith, as the faces of her children flashed in front of her eyes as she prepared to meet see them again on the other side. But then there was a thud at her left and Carl cried out. Opening her eyes back up, Georgie turned to see Olivia flat on her back with a bullet hole through the right side of her face. Carl dropped down to his knees and hovered over Olivia; looking like he wanted to touch her to feel for a pulse. As if she would someone still be alive.

With the realization that Olivia was very much dead, Carl whipped his head up and stared at Georgie who was trying to console a very startled Judith.

"Is Judy okay?" was the first thing out of his mouth.

Georgie nodded. "Just scared. Are you?" she asked, reaching her hand toward him and pulling him up and over to her.

Carl just shrugged as he and Georgie both turned to see Rick approaching; helping a very battered and bloodied Aaron walk. Tobin tried running toward the house, probably to check on Olivia but a Savior pushed him back and kept him in place with a gun pointed at his forehead. Rick handed Aaron off to Eric and stormed over to Negan.

"We had an _agreement_."

"Rick!" Negan greeted hoarsely. "Look, everybody, it's Rick! Ah, your people are making me lose my fuckin' voice doin' all this yelling."

Rick looked around, seeing Rosita on the ground with a cut to her face and then seeing Spencer, dead and disemboweled on the ground in a pool of literal blood and guts beside the pool table. He had been gone barely twenty-four hours and his world was going to hell in a handbasket. Again.

Four days after Glenn and Abraham—when would it stop?

"Rick…how about a 'thank you'?" Negan urged, calmly. "I mean, look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy fuck out of your friends, and because of that, we're never gonna sit around and braid each other's hair or share our deepest, _darkest_ secrets, but how about a little credit? I just bent over _backwards_ to show you how _reasonable_ I am. Your kid—he hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought him home, safe and sound."

Rick turned around and practically glared at Carl, displacing his anger toward Negan toward his own son for a few moments.

"_And_ I fed him spaghetti," Negan continued, going on as if he'd just cure cancer and should be given a prize. "Another one of your people — well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. _I took him the fuck out_…for you. And another one, here—" he gestured down at Rosita, "—she shot _Lucille_, trying to _kill_ me just now, so I gave you one less mouth to feed. And by looking at her—" he pointed toward Olivia dead body on the porch, with Rick following to look, "—that mouth did some _major_ damage. Now, personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat—" Negan sighed, "—I don't know—didn't trust her."

Rick brought his gaze back to Negan; fighting every urge not to jump him and bite his throat out like he did to that Claimer months back on the road to Terminus. He was reining in his anger with everything he had; clenching his jaw and breathing heavily through his nose. Taking half a step forward, he held Negan's eye. "Your shit's waiting for you at the gate. Just _go_."

Negan smirked. "Sure thing, Rick — right after I find the guy or gal that made this bullet," he remarked, holding the casing up between him and Rick. "Arat?"

Turning to look over her shoulder, Arat spun and aimed her gun at Eric; causing Aaron to pull his boyfriend protectively closer while both men looked toward the gun with utter terror.

"It was me!" Tara cried out, taking a step forward.

"No, it wasn't," Eugene cried; his hands covering his face, which muffled his sniffling. As Negan stepped over toward him he lowered his hands and sniffled again. "It was me. It was only me."

"You?" Negan questioned, seeming a bit doubtful.

As if to offer proof, Eugene began to ramble off the bullet-making procedure, albeit nervously. "It required one spent casing, one four-holed turret reloader, powder, one funnel for the powder—"

"Shut up," Negan cut him off as he leaned in a placed a hand on his shoulder. "I believe you."

Eugene looked at Negan, then at one of the three Saviors holding their guns on him before looking down dejectedly, and still sniffling a little.

Stepping away with his eyes closed tight, Negan lifted Lucille up in front of him and drew in a deep breath. "Lucille, give me _strength_." With a heavy sigh, he turned toward Rick. "I'm gonna be relieving you of your bullet maker, Rick. That and whatever you left for me at the front gate. And however much you scavenged, it's not good fuckin' enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today." Looking around at his lackeys, Negan bellowed, "Let's move out!"

"No! No, _no_! _Please_, just take _me_!" Rosita cried, watching as Eugene was being shoved forward. "No!"

Stepping closer to Rick to the point of serious personal space invasion, Negan whispered, "If shit like this happens the next time I come here, I'm gonna take more with than just some mullet-wearing schlub who can make bullets. I'll take your babysitter, Georgie. She's _really_ something to look at, ain't she? Not to mention, she's _really_ good with her hands." Biting his bottom lip, Negan chuckled and then lifted Lucille to rest the bat upon his shoulder. "I'll see you next time." With a turn on the heel of his shoes, he began to walk off without another word; just leaving Rick there with a million and one thoughts surging around his mind.

As Negan and the Saviors retreated up the road to leave, the Alexandrians that had been gathered there, stayed, looking either down at Rosita, who was so hunched forward on the ground, covering her head as she cried softly over Eugene being taken away, or they looked at Rick, who stood there, stock still with tears burning at his eyes while he shook slightly from a mix of fear, fury, guilt and misery.

Tara and Gabriel went to Rosita and helped her up to her feet, to bring her to the Infirmary where they could clean up the cut on her face for her, while the others either retreated to their homes or went to get sheets to wrap Olivia's and Spencer's bodies up and prepare to bury them in their community's cemetery.

"Carl, take Judith inside, please," Georgie spoke to the boy after a while.

Carl didn't hesitate, he took his sister into his arms, retreating away from Olivia's body and then slipped into the house where it was quiet and safe.

Holding onto the railing with one hand, Georgie looked over at Rick and watched as he turned toward Spencer, who had reanimated and was sitting up, growling and reaching for Rick. She watched the way Rick stepped forward and pulled out his knife; shoving it quickly and roughly into Spencer's skull to kill him for good. As he yanked the knife out and as Spencer's body slumped back to the ground, Rick stumbled back slightly and then looked at the large pool of blood running toward a storm drain. He looked down at his hand and the blood on the knife he held and then turned toward the house, where he slowly made eye contact with Georgie.

Delicately, she stepped around Olivia's body and walked to the edge of the stairs and he began to walk forward, too; heading for the porch. As reached the bottom of the stairs, he was clenching his jaw and gripping that knife tighter; looking for the words he wanted to say.

"Carl," he began. "He—he snuck away? He went after the Saviors and killed two?"

Georgie couldn't tell if he was just angry or maybe also a little proud and impressed. Maybe all of the above. "I don't know. I guess. That's what Negan just said," she replied with a shrug, feeling out his tone. "He never came home for dinner last night and when I went looking around this place for him, Scott pointed out that one of the cars outside the walls was missing. We put two and two together that him and Enid snuck out and took the car. I never thought he'd…"

Rick curled his lips, and his nostrils flared. He looked like he wanted to yell; to storm inside the house and berate his son. However, when he made the first move to even head up the stairs, Georgie held her hands out to him to stop him.

"Rick, don't," she pleaded. "Yes, he took off and, yes, it resulted in bringing Negan back here, but we don't know what Carl saw or what he was put through today before he was brought back. He said he's fine, but he's also your son and holds shit in just like you. We had Negan in here, in this house, with _our_ kids." Her own tears were stinging her eyes now. "Please, don't argue with Carl right now. Just let it go. He knows he fucked up. He knows. Don't yell at him about it. He's had a hard day, too."

Chewing the inside of his bottom lip, Rick simply nodded as he looked down at the stairs and inhaled a few deep breaths. "Negan…" he began; the man's name like acid on his tongue. "Did he—did he touch you at all?" Looking back up at Georgie, he noticed her confused expression. "He said something about you."

"What did he say?"

Rick licked his lips. "He—he said, he said you were good with your hands?" he answered. "What did he do to you?"

Georgie began to shake her head and descended the stairs until she stood on the last step and was eye level with him. "No, no, Rick. He didn't touch me. He didn't hurt me." She placed her hands on either side of his face and could feel him physically shaking against her touch. "He just said something crude to me, so I slapped him. That's all."

Rick raised an eyebrow, and almost allowed himself to laugh. "You slapped him and he didn't hurt you back?"

"No," she assured, dropping her hands down to his shoulders. Then, a little disgusted, she added, "I think he got off on it."

"But, you…you really slapped him?" Off Georgie's nod, he leaned forward a bit. "Was it awesome?"

"Better than sex."

"Really?"

"No, not really. It was kinda scary, actually, but also satisfying."

Rick nodded. "I can imagine." Then, "I'm pretty jealous."

"I bet."

Licking his lips again, Rick pressed his forehead against hers and let out a heavy sigh. "Is Judith okay?"

"She's fine."

"Good. Good. That's good." Turning away from her face, he looked over her shoulder and glimpsed Olivia's dead body and, just like that, the brief moment of happiness he'd felt over hearing about Georgie slapping Negan faded away and reality came crashing back in. "Two more bodies to bury."

Georgie nodded, placing one hand upon her hip and the other brushing some hair out of her face. "I'll get the hose and rinse the porch and the street down, after they're carried away. Actually, I'll tell Carl to do it. That can be his punishment for going off and bringing the Saviors back here. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me." Rick looked back at Georgie, studying the intricacies of her frown lines. "I'm sorry you had to play hostess to Negan, and for whatever he said that made you slap him. Actually," he paused, tilting his head slightly. "I'm _glad_ he said whatever he said _so_ you got to slap him. It's the little things, right?"

"Yeah."

Tipping his head forward, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "I have to—"

"It's okay, Rick. This is just something else we gotta get through, and we will."

Looking away at the sound of footsteps approaching on the pavement, Rick saw Tobin, Scott and Kent driving down the road toward their house in a truck. When the truck came to a stop and parked, Tobin climbed out of the driver's seat, Scott out of the passenger's seat and Kent climbed down from the back bed. All three men were wearing gloves and Scott was carrying several sheets with him as they approached Spencer's body first.

"I should help them," Rick remarked.

Georgie followed his gaze, and nodded. "Okay. I'll, uh, tell Carl to get the hose ready."

"Okay." Looking up at Georgie, he reached out with his free hand and placed it upon her hip where her own hand rested. Slipping his fingers between hers, he pulled her hand forward and then gave it a squeeze.

He didn't say anything, he just looked at her.

And then, like that, he released her hand and stepped away.

* * *

Later that night, after Spencer and Olivia were buried and after Carl had obediently hosed down the porch and road of blood without so much as a grumble, darkness had finally fallen and so had silence throughout Alexandria. Michonne had returned home and was informed by Carl all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours; where he went, what he'd seen, what had transpired at home and the lives they'd lost. Judith had fallen asleep easily enough, after having been awakened from her nap early by Negan, making her overtired and fussy by nightfall. Leftover spaghetti that Georgie had put away was pulled out and given to Michonne to warm up and eat. Rick had declined, not wanting to eat anything Negan made, despite how hungry he was feeling. He was also still feeling twisted up inside about what needed to happen next, so he went for a walk; to do his rounds around Alexandria like it was just another normal night.

When Rick had declined the food and left, Michonne second guessed eating the spaghetti, also for the same reason that Negan had made it, but Georgie made a good point that Carl had made it, too, and there was no point in wasting good food. She also painfully admitted that, despite Negan being the head chef, the spaghetti was delicious.

A little while later, Rick returned, pausing just outside the door, on the porch, staring down at the faint blood stain from where Olivia had been lying dead a few hours before. Exhaling a deep breath, he continued inside the house and shut the door behind him. In the living room, he found Michonne curled up in the oversized plaid chair, using her fist to prop her head up. He then noticed Georgie and Carl side by side on the couch, and Carl had must've been just as overtired as Judith, because his head had slumped onto Georgie's shoulder and he was snoring gently.

Rick stepped further into the room and looked between both women and then his son again, and any anger he felt toward him dissipated like a dream he could no longer remember the details of. Instead, he smiled.

"How long's he been asleep like that?" Rick whispered, not asking either female specifically.

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes," Michonne muttered.

Rick nodded in response, and then stepped forward and nudged Carl's leg. "Hey."

With a startle, Carl woke up and lifted his head almost immediately from Georgie's shoulder while wiping his mouth of any drool that might be there. He blinked, and then looked at his father, at Michonne, and lastly at Georgie; realizing he'd fallen asleep on her. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay," Georgie assured.

"Why don't you head upstairs and get some sleep?" Rick suggested.

"It'd actually be more comfortable for him down here on the couch. The Saviors took our mattresses, remember?"

"They burned them," Michonne interjected.

All three looked at her.

"Are you serious?" Carl questioned.

Michonne nodded. "The road I was on after I left here yesterday, I found the mattresses; a smoldering, charred heap. They didn't take them because they needed them or because they wanted them. They just didn't want _us_ to have them. They took them because they _could_."

"And they burned them because they knew we'd find them whenever we left to go looking for supplies," Georgie deduced as Michonne nodded in agreement.

"Well, we can find new mattresses," Rick muttered; his hands on his hips. "For now, let's just focus getting some rest. All of us."

Standing up, Georgie removed the blanket from the back of the couch and gestured for Carl to remain. With a shake, she unfolded the blanket and handed it over to the teen before brushing some hair off his face and wishing him a goodnight. They weren't at that point where they kissed each other goodnight and hugging was still a little awkward. As Michonne walked by, she ruffled Carl's hair and smiled at him, exchanging goodnights with him before heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water to take with her to bed. Rick, then, pulled his son in for a hug and kissed the side of his head.

"Sleep tight. I love you."

"Love you, too," Carl replied, lying back onto the couch; propping a pillow up behind his head. "G'night, Dad."

"'Night, Carl."

Flicking off the lights downstairs that were still on, Rick followed shortly after both Michonne and Georgie. However, while Georgie had already slipped upstairs, Michonne was standing in the doorway of her bedroom off the kitchen; seemingly waiting for Rick. When he noticed this, she stepped inside and he moved closer to see what was up.

"Why I didn't go with you and Aaron; I went looking for something, and I found what I was looking for. I went looking for where the Saviors' base is. I found it, and there are more of them, even more than we thought. We are outnumbered. It's not even close."

Rick frowned.

"But, you know what? We're the ones who get things done. _You_ said that," Michonne continued, poking him gently in the chest. "_We're_ the ones who live. _That's_ why we have to fight — not for us, but _for_ Judith, _for_ Carl…for Alexandria, for the Hilltop — for all of us. We can fight them, Rick. We can find a way to beat them. We can do this."

With a nod, Rick looked down at the ground between them. "Yeah, after today, I know that now." Looking back up at Michonne, he sighed. "We _will_ fight. We _will_."

Michonne smiled. "Good," she remarked. "I think we should go to the Hilltop tomorrow. We should see how Maggie and Sasha are doing. We should talk to Jesus about seeing if the Hilltop will fight with us."

"Okay. We'll go tomorrow."

"Thank you, Rick."

"Thank _you_."

Without saying anything else, the pair nodded goodnight to each other and went their separate ways; Michonne closing her bedroom door behind her and Rick slowly ascending the stairs.

The entire house was pin-drop silent as he reached his and Georgie's bedroom. He couldn't even her rustling about inside. The door was already open and he found her simply sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest. With her arms resting upon her knees, she was dangling her hands limply between them. Since the bedside tables had also been taken, the lamps were now on the floor as well, and only the one furthest from the window turned on. As he stepped inside the room, closing the door quietly behind him, Rick sighed and walked over to his dresser; removing his watch and setting it in the glass jewelry dish beside his discarded wedding band.

"How's your leg today?" Turning around, he began to remove his utility belt and then his regular belt; both of which he dropped down to the floor next to his side of their "bed".

Georgie shrugged. "I kinda wish I'd taken something for it when I had the chance."

Rick recalled the Saviors taking all their medication the day before; something else to infuriate him. "We'll get something for you tomorrow."

"I'm fine," she insisted; determined to power through the ache as she had been. "At least it's not as bad as it was."

"That's a good sign."

Looking up at Rick, Georgie raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going on another run tomorrow?"

"No."

"Then how are you gonna get more medication for us?"

"I just talked to Michonne for a minute before coming up here. She suggested we go to the Hilltop tomorrow and I agree with her."

Georgie nodded. "We _should_ go see how Maggie is doing."

"That and to talk to Jesus; see if we can get the Hilltop to fight with us against the Saviors." Looking down at Georgie, he began to unzip his jeans and then moved his hands up to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"We're gonna fight now?"

Rick frowned, using the bookshelf against the wall to hold onto as he leaned forward to pull off his boots. "Are you okay with that?"

"I already told you we'd find a way to fight them sooner or later; maybe not today or tomorrow. But we would and we will. And after the shit Negan pulled today, coming in here, trespassing in our home; cooking in our kitchen, shaving in our bathroom? I can't stand for that." Georgie looked down at her hands and began picking at her fingernails.

"And we won't," he insisted, setting his boots against the wall and then standing up straight to pull his shirt off. "We're gonna have a war on our hands, though. Michonne said she found the Saviors' base camp and that there's an ungodly amount of them compared to us. This is something that's not gonna happen overnight."

"Us and the Hilltop can't be the only communities out there that the Saviors have under their thumb. There's gotta be others out there, like us, who'll believe in banding together, to fight together."

"When this fight comes, will you be ready?"

"What kind of dumbass question is that?" Georgie asked with a smirk. "I'm with you; ride or die. Of course, I'd prefer the _not_ dying part."

Tossing his shirt to the ground, Rick stepped across the blanket spread out on the floor that Georgie was sitting on; making his way to the bathroom. "I'm just checking. It's okay if you don't want to. I mean, I'd need someone to look after Judith."

"Maggie. She can't be fighting in her present condition. She can do it. Someone we know can protect her, but shouldn't be fighting."

Flicking on the light switch to the bathroom, Rick stopped and looked at the sink, which he found to be a complete mess. There were beard trimmings all around the bowl, the cap was off his can of shaving cream and he could only imagine how disgusting his razor was now. Remembering how clean-shaven Negan had been and how Georgie mentioned him using their bathroom, Rick felt sick to his stomach. Growling under his breath, he picked up the straight razor and tossed it into the waste basket beside the toilet; deciding to never use it again. Not after Negan had. He could always find something else to use down the line. Shaving was not a priority to him right now. He then turned the faucet on; splashing water around the sink to wash the trimmings down the drain. After recapping the can, Rick stepped back, wiping his hands on his pants and turned back to look at Georgie as he thought about this invasion of privacy.

"I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick," he informed as she simply nodded in reply. He didn't bother to shut the bathroom door behind him as he removed his pants completely and let them drop to the floor.

It's not like it wasn't anything Georgie hadn't already seen a bunch of times.

There was no need to be shy now.

Stepping out of his jeans, Rick walked over to the shower and stepped inside. Turning on the hot and cold nozzles, he tensed as the cold water took precedence at first before he tweaked the nozzles until the temperature was more comfortable for him. Standing under the showerhead as the water poured down over him. Rick reached his hands out and braced the cool, tiled wall and looked down at the water running down his body and just taking comfort in the way the water pelted his scalp and shoulders.

Despite that wonderful feeling, he couldn't shake the anger he was still feeling. The image of Negan walking around this house, cooking a meal with his son, holding Judith, shaving in his bathroom with his razor; it was unsettling. He tried to imagine how awkward it must've been for Carl and Georgie to endure that man and not be able to do anything about it. While he began to wash his hair, Rick wondered what crude thing Negan had said to Georgie that made her decide it was worth it to risk her safety by slapping him in retaliation. Georgie was a strong woman, and she could handle a lot, so for her to let her guard down and snap like that, it had to have been something she felt was just that awful. And that made Rick angrier.

As he rinsed his hair out, he lathered up a bit with soap and washed his skin to the best of his ability, but his thoughts were distracting him so much that it was likely he missed some spots. Putting the bar of soap back, he rinsed off some more and then turned the water off. Giving his head a shake, he slicked his hair back with his fingers and stepped out of the shower. Stepping onto the shower mat, he grabbed for a towel and wrapped it around his waist, while listening to the last remnants of dirty, soapy water swirling down the drain.

For a moment, he just stood there. He ran his hands over his face and flicked away some of the excess water that was beading down from his scalp like sweat. Letting out a short cough and clearing his throat, he began to leave the bathroom.

"Georgie, I gotta know—" he began, but stopped when he came back into the bedroom and saw her laying on her side, under the top blanket, with her arm bent at the elbow so that her head could be propped up with her hand. Her shoulders and arms were bare, giving away the fact that she was wearing no shirt or bra underneath that blanket, and if her top half was naked, it was very likely her bottom half was, too.

"Gotta know what?" she inquired, bringing his focus back to him.

He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "What exactly did Negan say to you? I need to know what he said that was so bad you had to slap him."

"Does it really matter?"

"To me, it does."

"He asked me if I had reconsidered going back with him, becoming one of his wives. Said he didn't have a redhead and wondered if the carpet matched the drapes. His exact words," she replied. "But that's not why I slapped him."

"Why?"

Frowning, Georgie shifted and lay back with her head on her pillow as she stared up at the ceiling, rather than over at Rick. "He wanted to fuck me. Said he believed it would be enjoyable."

Rick's face fell and his jaw clenched so tightly together he felt like he might crack his teeth. "_That's_ when you slapped him?"

"That's when I slapped him," she repeated; confirming it.

Rick breathed heavily out of his flaring nostrils.

"The upside was that he was asking," Georgie continued, letting out a sigh. "He wasn't going to force himself on me. So, I think we can cross off him being a rapist from the list of all his negative qualities." Glancing over at Rick and seeing how he was getting hot under the theoretical collar, she added, "I don't think he knows you and I are together. I don't think he's picked up on that. I think he thinks I'm fair game because there's no ring on my finger and that the only relationship I had here was that he still thinks Abraham was my brother."

"That doesn't matter," Rick remarked stepping forward. "Unattached or not, he had no right to speak like that to you."

"This is a man who has no problem killing innocent, defenseless people. Asking to fuck my brains out isn't that bad by comparison."

"That doesn't make it right."

Georgie and Rick looked at each other for a moment.

"Just look at it this way," she spoke again. "We're still alive, Rick." She beckoned for him to come closer, so he crouched down and sat down beside her. "So much has happened, so much that we shouldn't have lived through. And, in spite of it or maybe because of it, we did. We're still here, the two of us. We're still standing, and we're gonna _keep_ standing. Given a bit of time and resources, we can fight the Saviors, Rick. We can find a way to _beat_ them. We can do this, but…but only if _we_ do this."

As Georgie placed a hand up to his knee, Rick covered it with his own hand and smiled appreciatively down at her. "Ride or die, right?"

Georgie smiled. "Ride or die," she nodded. "You said it to me before, and to all of Alexandria; that if we don't fight, we die. Well, we're dying here like this, so we're gonna fight. We might suffer some more losses along the way, but we'll win. The good guys always win in the end. That's the way it's always been and always will be, no matter how long it takes us to win."

Rick licked his bottom lip and nodded. Leaning forward, he brushed some of her thick ginger locks from the side of her face and smiled at her with his eyes. He just sat there like that, staring at her for a few moments, not saying anything. Georgie stared right back, looking over every intricacy of his face; every curve and indent, every scar or pock mark, the beard growth on his face, the way his blue eyes could look both bright and dark at the same time, and the way his fuller bottom lip seemed to protrude a bit farther out when he was thinking about something.

Leaning down, Rick smiled properly and kissed her gently upon the lips. When he nuzzled her nose briefly, he asked, "What do you miss?"

Pulling back from his face, Georgie began to smile as well. "Wow. We haven't done that in a _while_."

"Yeah, well, I think we're overdue."

With a soft exhale of breath, Georgie lifted her hands up to either side of his face; enjoying the way the short hairs scratched gently at her palms. "I miss our bed," he replied with a small chuckle.

Rick snickered and began to lift up the blanket that was covering her body and then tossed it aside. "Me, too," he agreed, pulling off the towel from around his waist.

"No copying my answer," she chided. "What do you miss? Remember, it's supposed to be something superficial."

"I know," he insisted, moving to lay himself down between her legs while propping himself up with his arms. After a moment of thinking and playing with the ends of her hair, he answered with, "I miss my Colt."

Smiling, Georgie leaned her face up to his and kissed him again. "What are you talking about?" Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his waist and pulled him down further against her body. "I feel it right here."

Shaking his head, Rick shifted slightly; wrapping his arms up underneath her back to hold her against him while she somewhat mimicked the gesture by wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The feeling of being that enveloped with each other without even being in the throes of lovemaking was just as wonderful.

It was comfort. It was safety. It was calm.

"We're really gonna do this, aren't we?" she whispered.

"Sex?"

"No," she chuckled. "Fight."

"Yeah, we are. Are you sure you're ready for it?"

Snaking a hand between their bodies, she helped position him where he needed to be, while she nodded back at him. "Ride or die."


	43. In Tandem

_"Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much." _— Helen Keller

* * *

The ride back to Hilltop was relatively quiet and thankfully nowhere near as tense as the prior days had been. Unlike their last visit, which saw them beaten down and broken as they brought their fallen friends there with them to be buried and leaving behind Maggie and Sasha, this visit was one of renewed hope and for a reunion with their two female friends that they all so very much needed right now. Rick sat at the driver's seat of their Chevy Suburban, occasionally glancing at Georgie; throwing her a smile here and there when she realized he was staring. Behind them sat Michonne, Tara, Carl and Rosita; all staring out their respective windows at the scenery flying by.

When they arrived, Rick parked where they had the first time they'd ever come to Hilltop with the RV, almost three weeks before. Quietly, they hopped out of the vehicle and made their trek up the winding pathway up the hill, spying Maggie atop the wall and waving at them with a smile before she turned around toward the direction of Barrington House.

"Sasha! Enid!" she called out.

As they reached the gate, Rick took Georgie's hand in his and they all simply waited until the wooden doors opened up with a creaking noise and they were greeted, face to face, by Maggie on the other side. Walking forward, Rick gradually let his hand slip from Georgie's so that he could properly greet Maggie with a hug while the others followed behind him.

"You're okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"I'm okay," Maggie replied before pulling back and looking him in the eye. "The baby's okay—all of us."

"You were right…right from the start. You told us to get ready to fight. I didn't listen, and I couldn't. I can now."

Movement drew their attention to the right and all eyes were suddenly taking in the sight of Daryl and Jesus walking out from behind a wooden stall of sorts. Rick wasted no time; walking forward to greet his best friend with a touching embrace while everyone else exchanged their own hugs (or nods of acknowledgment in Sasha and Rosita's case) with each other.

After the touching reunion among friends boiled down to a simmer, Daryl reached behind him and revealed Rick's Colt Python and handed it over. For Rick, it was like he had lost a hand and then suddenly it had grown back. He was a bit dumbfounded, holding it again, and like that it felt like coming home; like it had never been lost to him. He checked the cylinder, closed it and then looked back up at Daryl as he holstered it. The familiar weight of it at his side was like a jolt of adrenaline, causing him to turn around and look at the others with a smile of hope upon his face that was mirrored back to him in the faces of his friends, his woman, and his son.

Without a word, Rick turned again; this time toward the house. He didn't pause in his step, he kept walking and everyone followed behind him; Jesus included. They walked up the front steps and through the front door and into the grand foyer before turning and approaching Gregory's office. None seemed surprised to find him there. His presence almost felt like he was expecting him, though his expression and body language said the exact opposite. Gregory was immediately wide eyed, nervous and jerky but tried playing it cool like the big man on campus he was supposed to be, or, at the very least, how he saw himself. Enid, however, chose to hang back while everyone else stood around the office.

Rick was the one who stepped forward and began to speak about what had been transpiring back at Alexandria and how it was time to fight the Saviors now; that they couldn't just sit idly by anymore. Enough was enough. But Alexandria needed the Hilltop's help.

"No! No way in hell," Gregory barked, pacing behind his desk. "That was not the deal. You people _swore_ you could take the Saviors out and you failed. So any arrangement we had is now done—null and void. We aren't trade partners, we aren't friends, and we never met. Hmm? We don't know each other." Placing his fingertips upon his desk, he backed up slightly and sat down in his chair. He turned and eyed up both Maggie and Jesus. "I owe you _nothing_. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees, at great personal risk."

"Oh, you were very brave staying in here while Maggie and Sasha saved this place," Jesus retorted sarcastically. "Your courage was inspiring."

"Hey, don't you _work_ for me? Aren't we _friends_?"

Rick walked up to the desk to implore the older man further. "Gregory, we already started this."

"_You_ started it."

"_We_ did," Rick contended. "And we're gonna win."

Gregory turned to give Rick more of his attention. "These are _killers_."

"Is this how you want to _live_? Under their _thumb_, killing your _people_?"

"Sometimes we don't get to choose what our life looks like. Sometimes, Ricky, you have to _count_ the _blessings_ you _have_."

Maggie grabbed the back of the chair nearest to her and leaned forward slightly. "How many people can we spare? How many people here can fight?"

"_We_?" Gregory scoffed. "I don't even know how many people we have, _Margaret_. And does it even matter? I mean…" he trailed for a moment, seeming rather flustered. "W-w-what are you gonna do? Start a platoon of sorghum farmers? 'Cause that's what we got. They _grow_ things. They're not gonna want to fight."

"You're _wrong_," Tara asserted. "When people have the chance to do the right thing, they usually _step up_. I mean, people just—"

"Let me stop you before you break into song, okay?" Gregory interrupted, and cleared his throat. "And, by the way, who would _train_ all this cannon fodder?

"I will," Sasha replied.

At the same time, Rosita answered, too. "Give me a week."

"_Rhetorical_, okay?" Gregory blurted in an obnoxiously sing-song voice. "I don't want to know. I never want to hear another word about _any_ of it, _ever_."

Completely fed up with the older man, Rick gestured to him and barked out in an equally loud voice, causing Georgie to take half a step forward in case she need to keep him from going over the desk and attacking Gregory. "_Would_ we be better off without the Saviors, _yes_ or _no_?"

Gregory rolled his eyes, giving attitude akin to an aloof, petulant teenager. "Yeah. Sure. Okay."

Placing a hand on Rick's shoulder, Georgie stepped forward and made eye contact with the man at the desk. "So, what will you do to fix the problem?"

"I didn't say we had a problem. _You_ did," he retorted, pointing at her. "And what happens outside of my purview is outside of my purview."

"What the hell, man?" Daryl grunted, placing his hands on his hips and taking a firmer stance where he stood beside Tara. "You're either _with_ us or you _ain't_," he continued, raising his voice angrily. "You're sitting over there talking out of both sides of your mouth."

Standing up, Gregory adjusted the ends of the sleeves of his suit coat. "I—I think I've made my position very clear," he commented in a calm and steady voice. "And I want to thank all of you for not being here today and not having this meeting with me or—or being seen on your way out. In other words, go out the back."

Turning and looking at his people, Rick gave them a nod and gestured toward the opened office doors. Stalking out, Rosita and Sasha both began to grumble angrily.

"Walking ballsack."

"Wanna knock that idiot's teeth out."

"Yeah, well, we don't need him anyway," Daryl muttered as they congregated in the grand foyer.

"Yeah, that's right," Rick agreed. "'Cause we have Maggie and Sasha and Jesus here."

"And…" Maggie began to speak as the front door clicked open. "Enid."

The teen girl entered into the house, seemingly a bit flustered about something. "Hey, um—"

"What's wrong?" Georgie inquired, folding her hands across her chest.

"Nothing. Just…" Enid chuckled. "Come outside."

One by one they all followed the girl out the front door and were immediately greeted by several Hilltop residents waiting for them at the base of the front steps.

"What's going on?" Maggie asked of them.

A woman stepped forward and spoke up. "Hey. So, if you don't remember—I'm Bertie. And I owe my life to you all, _twice_ over. A _bunch_ of us do. Enid says that you want Gregory to get us to fight the Saviors with you. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Do you think we can win, that we _really_ could beat them? _Us_?"

"I do."

Bertie sighed. "Well, Enid says you could show us the way," she responded. "I'm ready."

"Me too," a man added, followed by a cacophony of multiple voices agreeing to the same thing.

Rick turned and looked at Georgie. Smiling lovingly, he took her hand into his once again and gave it a firm squeeze as she smiled back. He then turned to the Hilltoppers and made it clear that they didn't have a solid plan yet, but that they would teach them how to fight, how to properly use guns and even hand to hand combat if needed; how to defend themselves. Daryl, who had been kept hostage at the Sanctuary and had become familiar with its inner workings, gave a brief rundown of what it was like and what kind of people where there; what they could expect should they ever take the fight there.

While Jesus stayed back for a few moments to discuss things with his own people, Rick and his group began to head back toward the gate.

They'd done what they'd come there for; to rally help to fight the Saviors.

"It's a start," Michonne declared.

"We'll get more," Sasha added. "It still won't be enough."

Rosita agreed. "No, it won't."

"Well, we find the right stuff, then maybe we don't need the numbers," Daryl spoke as they all continued to saunter forward. "Blow 'em up, burn 'em to the ground."

"You said there weren't just soldiers with the Saviors, that there were workers there. People didn't have a choice."

"We gotta win."

"We need more hands, another group," Rick insisted. "Negan has outposts. The geography, the distance works against us. We gotta get back. If they come looking for Daryl, we need to be there."

"You don't have to get back."

Everyone stopped just outside the wooden doors to the gate and turned to look at Jesus who had hurried up to rejoin them.

"Not yet," he continued. Pulling a walkie-talkie from his side, he held it up for all to see. "It's one of theirs, long range. We can listen in, keep track of them.

"So, if we're not going back, what are we doing, then?" Michonne asked.

"I think it's time we introduced you to Ezekiel." Jesus smiled. "_King_ Ezekiel."

Rick just stared, a bit confused by what they'd all just heard. "_King_?" 

* * *

"It's called the Kingdom?" Rick questioned after they reached their next destination and began filing out of the Chevy Suburban.

"Yeah," Jesus replied, climbing out from the passenger seat from where he'd been navigating for Rick. "I didn't name it."

Rick looked around at where they'd parked, noting there was nothing about the area they were in that seemed worth writing home about. "How much farther?"

"Well, technically, we're already here. I mean, we're always here, but here we are—at the Kingdom. Well, it's outer edge."

Daryl stood up within the vehicle but propped himself up by resting on arm atop the roof and the other atop the door. "Hey, what the hell we waitin' on?"

"Waiting for them." Pointing away from them, Jesus gestured to the two men in riot gear, approaching on horseback.

One of them men aimed a sword in their direction. "Who dares to trespass on the sovereign land of the—oh, shit." Like that, the man quickly dropped the theatrics and lowered his blade. "Jesus, is that you?"

In response, Jesus merely smiled and waved.

"Who are all these people, Paul?" the second man questioned; more guarded.

"Hi, Richard. Nice to see you," Jesus greeted, walking over.

"It's good to see you, too." Richard cast his eyes upon everyone. "Your friends, who are they?"

"This is Rick Grimes," Jesus answered, pointing to him. "He's the leader of a like-minded community. These are some of his people. We would like to request an audience with King Ezekiel."

Richard climbed down from his horse; holding a gun he kept down at his side as he approached. Craning his head, he looked into the Chevy Suburban at those still inside. "Get out of the car," he ordered, before bringing his attention back to Jesus. "You say they're a like-minded community. Like-minded how?"

"We live, we trade, we fight the dead. Sometimes others."

Richard gave Jesus a knowing nod, looked briefly at Rick and then gestured to Rick's group. "Line up."

"Okay. This is a waste of time. Come on. Let's go," Daryl grunted, turning to head back to the vehicle.

"Maybe you're right. The King is a busy man. And it's a dangerous world," Richard retorted. "We don't usually allow a _pack_ of strangers to waltz through our door."

"We want to make the world _less_ dangerous, and we are all here to show the King how serious we are about that," Michonne spoke up.

Richard nodded again. "The car stays outside. You gotta hand over your guns."

"We only have two," Rick remarked. Removing his Colt, which he'd only just got back, he nodded at Carl to do the same, and both men held their respective guns out in front of them.

Richard took both and nodded appreciatively. "Okay. Follow me."

With a look at Georgie that was a mix between seriousness and amusement, Rick led his group behind Jesus and the Kingdomers.

"Well, this should be interesting," he spoke quietly, leaning into her slightly.

"No shit," Georgie smirked. "I've always wanted to me a real live King before."

Quietly chuckling under his breath, Rick grinned and looked ahead toward the gate they were approaching. "Do you think pulling a sword from a stone was involved, for this Ezekiel to become a king?"

Georgie cast a brief look Rick and couldn't help but smile a bit more at the image. "Now I'm kinda hoping that's how it went down."

With little incentive, Rick held his hand out to the side and slipped it easily into Georgie's again. It was almost out of habit by this point. Heading into new territory, literally and figuratively, he enjoyed the contact of her hand in his; their fingers entwined. It was comforting.

As the gate was pulled open for them, they all continued to follow Richard and the other one inside of the Kingdom. Immediately they were greeted by the sight of large brick buildings, fruit and vegetable gardens all over the place and, most importantly, a lot of people.

"They have the numbers," Michonne stated happily.

"But can they fight?" Rosita questioned, sounding doubtful.

"Oh, they can fight," Jesus assured; a smile upon his face.

"Maybe." Daryl, like Rosita, didn't seem to be getting his hopes up.

"Morgan?"

The each heard Tara speak and turned around, finding the man approaching with a pleasantly surprised smile.

"Hey," he greeted, stepped forward and hugging the younger woman whose own smile was so happy and bright. Once Tara stepped aside, Sasha stepped up next to get her own hug in. "Hi."

"How do you know each other?" Richard inquired.

"We go back to the start," Rick replied.

"Well, the King is ready to see you."

As everyone began to follow Richard into the building before them, they took their turns giving Morgan a nod of greeting or a touch to his arm with a smile. Rick slipped his hand from Georgie's then to place his hand upon Morgan's arm as well while Georgie and Daryl hung back for a moment with both men outside.

"Did you find Carol?" Rick asked.

"I did, yeah," Morgan nodded.

"Where is she?" Daryl immediately seemed agitated.

Georgie, on the other hand, felt some relief. "Is she okay?"

"She was here, and then she left." Morgan frowned. "You know, she wasn't too happy, me following her. She wanted to get away from us, from everyone. But when I found her, she was shot. It was just a graze. I got her back here. They got doctors. They're good."

"Was it them?" Daryl pressed, meaning the Saviors.

Morgan nodded. "It was. She had crossed with some of them, and one of them tried to follow her, tried to kill her, but I stopped him." He looked like there was a bad taste in his mouth he couldn't get rid of. "I killed him. I had to. Carol was here. She got help. Now she's gone."

Daryl looked the most saddened by this, while Rick and Georgie had come to terms with Carol's choice to leave. They would not seek her out and force her to come back. If she wanted to see them again, and be part of their lives again, then so be it. They would welcome her home with open arms. At least they knew she was okay, or at least she had been when she left the Kingdom. That was enough for them to hear. At the moment, though, they had an audience with a King and didn't want to keep his majesty waiting.

Placing his hand upon the small of Georgie's back, he led her in with him while Daryl and Morgan took a much slower approach behind them. They slipped inside the building where they found the others waiting before Richard pushed open a set of doors into what appeared to be a theater of sorts; or, rather, a school auditorium.

Straight ahead, upon the stage, there was a backdrop painted with a castle and other scenery on it and in front of the backdrop was a wooden throne of sorts. There sat a man with a long, leather brown jacket, a full greying beard and a headful of greying dreadlocks, holding a staff in his right hand. Two the man's right stood two other men; one a large, smiling Samoan and the other a boy no older than eighteen, most likely. What was most unnerving about the entire scene was preceded by the sound of clinking chains and growling before the sight of a living, breathing tiger came stalking from around the throne.

"What the fuck," Georgie muttered under her breath. Her hand went straight to Rick's again; this time out of unease.

"Jesus!" King Ezekiel bellowed cheerfully, as the tiger came to rest beside him. "It pleases me to see you, old friend!"

"It pleases him, indeed!" the Samoan echoed with a grin.

"Jerry." King Ezekiel subtly rolled his eyes, but kept his sight upon Jesus and Rick's group. "Tell me, what news do you bring good King Ezekiel? Are these new allies you brought me?"

While the others hovered in the doorway, at what they felt a safe distance, Jesus stood about halfway down the aisle. "Indeed they are, Your Majesty. This is—" As he turned, his smile faded when he saw the looks of fear, uncertainty and confusion upon the faces of Rick's group. "Oh, right," he muttered, approaching them. "I forgot to mention that—"

"Yeah, a tiger," Rick muttered, trying to play it off as nonplussed as possible. His eyes said otherwise, however.

The tiger roaring did little to help.

Jesus smirked and turned back around to walk forward toward the stage. Slowly, the others began to follow him down the aisle. "This is Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people."

"I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers," King Ezekiel greeted. "Now, what brings you to our fair land? Why do you seek an audience with the King?"

Rick stepped forward, wondering if this was real life and that he wasn't just dreaming, because all of this just seemed so…absurd. While the others spread out, standing among the rows of seats, Michonne and Georgie remained in the aisle as Rick took another few steps closer. "Ezekiel—King…Ezekiel," Rick spoke, feeling ridiculous to refer to someone in such a way. "Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom—all three of our communities have something in common. We all _serve_ the _Saviors_."

Georgie looked away from the stage and up at the back of Rick's head. The venom with which he said the Saviors' name was not lost on her, as she was sure it wasn't lost on anyone else.

"Alexandria already fought them once, and we won," Rick continued. "We thought we took out the threat, but we didn't know then what we know now. We only beat one outpost. We've been told you have a deal with them, that you know them. Then you _know_ they rule through _violence_ and _fear_."

King Ezekiel turned his gaze from Rick to Jesus and stared rather pointedly, as if he'd been betrayed.

Jesus stared back. "Your Majesty, I only told them of the—"

"Our deal with the Saviors is not known among my people—for good cause," King Ezekiel stated. "We made you a party to that secret when you told us of the Hilltop's own travails, but we did not expect you to share—"

"We can help each other!"

"_Don't_ interrupt the King," Jerry warned.

"We brought you into our confidence. Why did you break it?" King Ezekiel questioned.

"Because I want you to hear Rick's plans."

The King turned his attention back to Rick. "And what plans have you, Rick Grimes of Alexandria?"

"We came to ask the Kingdom, to ask _you_, to _join_ us in _fighting_ the Saviors, fighting for freedom for _all_ of us," Rick replied with conviction.

"What you are asking is very serious."

"Several of our people—_good_ people—were killed by the Saviors, brutally," Georgie spoke up, stepping forward and coming to stand at Rick's side.

"Who?" Morgan asked.

"Abraham. Glenn," Rosita replied. "Spencer, Olivia. Eugene was taken."

"Denise, too," Georgie added. She didn't want her left off the list.

"They took Daryl. He escaped. Every second he's out here, he's a target," Rosita continued, her tone completely bitter. "You gonna say you were right?"

"No," Morgan shook his head, trying to process this news. "I'm…I'm just real sorry they're gone."

"Negan _murdered_ Glenn and Abraham; beat 'em to death," Rick informed.

"Terrorized the Hilltop," Sasha offered up. "Set loose walkers just to make a point."

Jesus frowned. "I used to think the deal was something we could live with. A _lot_ of us did. But that's changing. So let's change the world, Your Majesty."

Rick spoke up again. "I want to be honest about what we're asking. My people are _strong_, but there's not enough of us. We don't have guns—not enough, at least. Not a lot of weapons, period."

"We have people," Richard remarked, looking at the King and then to Rick. He seemed very motivated to join Alexandria's cause. "And weapons. If we strike first, together, we can beat them." He turned once more to the King and implored him. "Your Majesty, no more waiting for things to get worse, beyond what we can handle. We _set_ things right." Once more he looked back toward Rick. "The time is now."

"Morgan." King Ezekiel looked to the other man. "What say you?"

"Me?" Morgan questioned, looking between Rick and the King.

"Speak."

_No, don't let him speak_, Georgie thought, already rolling her eyes.

"People will die. A lot of people and not just the Saviors. It…" he trailed off, trying to formulate his thoughts, unaware of the choice words Georgie had for him in her own thoughts. "If we can find another way, we have to. Maybe it's just about Negan—just capturing him, holding him. Maybe…I—"

Any further words were lost on Morgan.

King Ezekiel stood up with his staff in his right hand and the chain acting as the tiger's leash in his left. "The hour grows late," he announced, followed by a low growl from his tiger. "Rick Grimes of Alexandria, you have given the King much to ponder."

"Well, when I was a kid, my mother told me a story," Rick began, trying to think of anything he could say to convince the King to agree with them; anything that could have sway. "There was a road to a kingdom, and there was a rock in the road. And people would just avoid it, but horses would break their legs on it and die, wagon wheels would come off. People would lose the goods they'd be coming to sell. That's what happened to a little girl. The cask of beer her family brewed fell right off. It broke. Dirt soaked it all up, and it was gone. That was her family's last chance. They were hungry. They didn't have any money. She just…sat there and cried, but…she wondered why it was still there…for it to hurt someone else. So she dug at that rock in the road with her hands till they _bled_, used everything she had to pull it out. It took _hours_. And then, when she was gonna fill it up, she saw something in it. It was a bag of gold."

"Alright," Jerry grinned, enjoying the story while the kid beside him rolled his eyes at him.

Rick smirked very faintly at the jovial Samoan's reaction. "The _king_ had put that rock in the road because he knew the person who dug it out, who did something, they deserved a reward. They deserved to have their life changed for the good…forever."

King Ezekiel look away from Rick and around to the others. "I invite you all to sup with us and stay till the morrow."

Rick wasn't all that keen on the offer. He wanted an answer now. "Yeah, we need to get back home."

"I shall deliver my decree in the morn," the King maintained.

With two bangs of his staff to the stage floor, King Ezekiel took his leave with his tiger, exiting behind him through the curtain at the center of the castle backdrop. Jerry turned and went stage right while the kid jumped down from the stage and went over toward Morgan. Richard was the one who stepped down from the stage to show Rick's group out after that.

And Rick was none too happy.

With a deep scowl he followed behind Richard. His eyes squinted upon stepping back outside; having to readjust to the sunlight, no matter how much lower it was in the sky now.

"We have extra space to put you all up for the night," Richard informed. "After dinner, I'll show you where. I'm sorry you didn't get the answer you wanted tonight. But I want you to know I am more than ready to help when the time comes. And I'm saying when, not if, because the time _will_ come."

Rick shook his head. "The time is already here."

"For now, though, I'll show you to where we all gather for large meals."

As Richard nodded at them all and began to walk off, the others began to follow behind at a slower pace. They were feeling just as frustrated now as Rick was, and seemingly Richard, too. Rick and Georgie brought of the tail end of their group, linking hands and looking around at the Kingdomers milling about, going about their lives, blissfully unaware that the real threat outside their walls was no longer just the dead.

"If Richard was the leader here, you can bet your ass we'd have received an answer tonight, _and_ it would've been the one we wanted," Georgie whispered.

"Yeah, but he's not, and we didn't."

"Let's just hope sleeping on it makes _His Majesty_ see things our way."

Rick gave her a sideway glance, noting the sarcasm in her voice at the way she said 'his majesty' and found he was able to smile a little at it. He knew his group was likely in agreement that the Kingdom and King Ezekiel was quite over the top with their pomp and circumstance way of life, despite how idyllic it was. But hearing it reflected in Georgie's voice was reassuring in a way. Even though he knew his group's reactions to everything was about the same as his, it was nice to have that vocal affirmation that he wasn't alone in it. 

* * *

The meal was uneventful. Very few Kingdomers came over to the Alexandrians to say hello, let alone gave them much attention. For whatever reason they didn't seem bothered by these guests, even after King Ezekiel acknowledged them during the meal. Rick's group ate in silence for the most part, as well. What little conversation they shared between one another was mostly to remark on the Kingdom's way of life or to just rehash their meeting with the King.

When they were more or less finished eating, Richard came over to take them to their temporary lodging. As they left the cafeteria, Rick noted that King Ezekiel watched with a thoughtful eye as they left. That look alone gave Rick a bit of hope that the other man would come around and agree to join the fight.

One by one each member of Rick's group was shown to their own—albeit small—room until Rick and Georgie were last. Richard opened the door and stepped aside, revealing the room to be slightly bigger and that it contained a full-sized bed, unlike the other rooms with their twin beds.

"The hand holding wasn't lost on me," Richard remarked, gesturing down at both Rick's and Georgie's hand, which weren't entwined at the moment. "I assumed the two of you were together, so that you'd want to share a room."

Rick nodded appreciatively. "Thank you."

Richard hesitated before leaving the pair alone. He looked like he wanted to say something, likely about earlier in the theater again, but then his pressed his lips firmly together and gave them a nod. "Well, goodnight."

Turning away, he walked off down the hallway; leaving Rick and Georgie to look between one another and then shrug it off. Inside their room, it was simple; with little in the way of furnishings. But that didn't matter. They weren't there to stay indefinitely. It was just a place to sleep for the night. Atop a small bedside table, there was a single tapered candle with a box of matches beside it. On the opposite wall were a single chair and a narrow dresser with two water bottles and a small bowl filled with both pomegranates and apples. The floor was carpeted with a simple throw rug, likely to help keep the room warm during the colder months.

"It's like a little hotel," Georgie remarked as Rick shut the door behind them. "All that's missing is the mints on the pillow."

With a smirk, Rick stepped up behind her and placed both hands on her hips and then brought his lips down to her shoulder. When he felt her relax up against him, he turned to nuzzle his nose against the skin of her neck and inhaled her scent. "What do you think Ezekiel will decide?" he inquired, letting his lips linger upon her neck as well. "Do you think this trip has been pointless?"

"Nothing is pointless," she assured. Turning around to face him, the fact that his hands moved with her and managed to replant themselves upon her hips was not lost to her. "Even if they don't fight, we've just met a new community that could help us in other ways. We don't have much, but there has to be something we can do for them in exchange for food, of which they have plenty while we're running dangerously low. I mean," she gestured over her shoulder with her thumb, "they have pomegranates. I think the last time I ever saw one of those in person was in a Food Lion back in Georgia before the fall."

Rick cast his eyes over to the bowl of fruit. "Speaking of lions, what about that _tiger_?"

Georgie snickered. "I think it goes without saying that _none_ of us were expecting that. I mean, who keeps a _tiger_ as a pet? How has it not lashed out and tried eating him?"

Rick shrugged. "He must be some kind of cat whisperer."

Slowly, a smile spread to Georgie's lips and a twinkle appeared in her eyes.

Narrowing his gaze, Rick looked back at her with a questioning, though amused, expression. "What?"

"I was just thinking that you're a sort of cat whisperer, too, if you catch my meaning."

Rick thought on what she said and then, like a flash, he realized the innuendo she was trying to get across to him. "Oh, I get it." Off her chuckle, Rick began to walk her backwards toward the bed and sat her down on the edge.

The window had both blinds and curtains and, while the curtains were open, the blinds were drawn shut. Not that it mattered; it was already dark out by that point, so there was no light to make its way inside the room so they could see what they were doing. Instead, Rick turned away from Georgie and pulled a match out from the box. Striking the head against the coarse strip along the side of the box, Rick brought the suddenly alight match to the candle's wick and then shook the match to extinguish the little flame once the room was very slightly aglow with candlelight. As the flame flickered, their shadows danced on the wall. While she moved further up onto the mattress and began to remove her boots from her feet, Rick turned and stepped over to the window, pulling down a few of the blinds with his fingers and peering outside to see what he could see from where they were.

There were a few people hanging around outside still, gathered together and talking. Whatever work was seen to over the course of the day seemed to have been put to rest. It seemed that once dinner was served, that was the end of the work day and the residents of the Kingdom had the rest of the evening after dinner to do with it what they pleased. Most seemed to just enjoy sitting around, socializing.

Rick felt a pang of jealously; wishing Alexandria could have a set up like this. If only they could have gardens that produced the amount of food the Kingdom did with little worry about needing to rely on supply runs or just going outside the walls in general, Rick was almost certain he might be able to see things from King Ezekiel's point of view. If only he and a few close to him had to know the extent of the deal with the Saviors and if they hadn't had to lose any lives over it like that had, he might've agreed to the same thing as the King. For one, the Saviors never stepped foot inside the Kingdom. The people inside stayed protected and oblivious, but they weren't helpless.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Georgie asked.

Rick stepped away from the window, letting the blinds return to normal, and looked back at her; watching the way her thick hair fell behind her shoulders and down her back as she leaned back on the bed with her hands propping herself up on the mattress. "Just thinking about how this place runs," he replied. "All things considered, they got it pretty good here. I'm kinda jealous. I wish _we_ had something like this."

As Rick kicked off his boots and began to undo his utility belt, Georgie shrugged. "You know what would make it better everywhere? Bashing in Negan's head with his own bat. Poetic justice, don't you think?"

"Believe me; the image has been occupying my mind quite a bit all this week."

Sitting up, Georgie reached forward and curled a finger through one of his belt loops. "So, what exactly will we do if Ezekiel says no?"

Rick sighed, looking down and watching as she began to undo his belt for him. He ran a hand down his face and shrugged. "There's gotta be other communities out there. Maybe Jesus might know of a few more, even if he's only seen them from afar. At the very least, we need to find weapons. We can't fight the Saviors with our good looks alone."

Georgie smirked, pulling the belt free from the loops and letting it drop to the floor with his utility belt. "I dunno," she muttered, unzipping his pants. "You're pretty damn good at those 'if looks could kill' looks. Not to mention you're quite the lady killer."

"Wow," Rick remarked sarcastically. "That was quite the pun."

Smacking her lips, Georgie slapped his chest and then watched as he smiled down at her. Letting his hands drift to her shoulders and then migrate up to the sides of her face, he leaned down and pressed his lips easily upon hers. Like clockwork, he climbed up onto the bed over her; pushing her back against the mattress in the process.

"If you like puns," she muttered, taking a momentary break from the kissing and heavy petting with him, "I've got another one for ya."

"Oh?" Rick began to leave a trail of kisses away from her lips and down to her neck; slowly migrating lower down her body.

"Yeah," Georgie replied with a nod and a smile. She shifted on the mattress so that she was no longer laying sideways across it; causing Rick to pause and adjust on the bed with her before resuming what he was doing. She smiled a bit more at the feel of him beginning to unzip her pants for her this time and shimmy them down from her waist. "Ezekiel might be a king here, but he's not the one about to be royally fucked."

Rick lifted his head and stared back at her. A couple of curls flopped forward at the sides of his head as he raised an eyebrow at her. "That was just terrible."

"No, it wasn't," she chuckled. "I thought I was pretty funny."

"Yeah, well, eye of the beholder and whatnot…"

Once Georgie's pants were off, she pulled her legs up to her chest and pushed her feet against Rick's thighs to push him away from her slightly, but only far back enough to give her the room to hook her toes into the tops of his jeans and push them down off his hips. Rick grinned back at her and then climbed off the bed to remove his pants completely along with his shirt; which he seemed unable to unbutton fast enough. Once undressed, he climbed back onto the bed while Georgie kicked her pants off from where they were pooled around her ankles. Rick leaned forward and the two of them worked in tandem to get her underwear and her bra off at the same time. Just as Rick went to hover over her, she pushed him aside so that he was lying upon his back, allowing her to get on top.

Slowly, she ran her fingers up and down his chest while hunching forward to place a kiss upon his lips.

"King me," she whispered with a small laugh.

Rick snickered, placing his hands upon her hips as he guided her down onto him. A small groan that escaped his throat was unavoidable and it seemed to please Georgie and she began riding him at a slow pace that was already starting to drive him nuts. Neither of them spoke anymore as they proceeded in making love. Rick just laid there, letting her do most of the work and was happy to oblige to get her where she needed to be while she got him where he needed to be. It was just one of many ways they seemed to be working in tandem tonight.

As they both drew near to their peaks, their groans got louder, their movements quicker, their breathing shorter and their grips upon each other much tighter. When Rick came first, he went rigid and sat up slightly; throwing his arms around Georgie's waist to pull her down to him, chest to chest. He then slipped a hand between their bodies and resumed helping her out while she continued to ride out his orgasm with him. When she finally came as well, she released a single, guttural whimper and then collapsed her full weight upon him; both of their bodies twitching and shuddering in the afterglow of release.

Slowly, their breathing began to settle. Rick kept his arms wrapped around her but moved them higher, from her waist to her back, to hold her in place. Georgie turned her face to rest it against his shoulder while her nose brushed against the underside of his chin as he attempted to glance down at her as she lay upon him.

Rick smiled. "Checkmate," he whispered, mirroring her earlier checkers reference with a chess reference instead.

Georgie understood and laughed softly. Lifting her head, she rested her chin upon his chest and watched the way his eyelids began to droop. "Now, now, don't go falling asleep just yet. Your Queen demands it."

"She does, does she?" Rick asked with his eyes closed and a smirk upon his lips.

"She does."

"Well, this king needs a few minutes to let the royal staff and jewels recover from that battle."

Georgie snorted. "Who's punning _now_?"

"Shh, let your King rest his eyes."

"No. I can't allow that," she insisted. "I know you. If you merely 'rest your eyes' for even a little bit, you're gonna fall asleep."

"Then do something to keep that from happening."

"Like what? You want me to sing you a song?" Georgie teased.

"No, but I can think of a few things you can do to help me out."

Georgie lifted her head and propped herself up to look down at him a bit more. Sensing she was staring, he opened on eye and stared back at her with it. With a roll of her eyes and a smile, she released a huff of breath and sat up. Sliding off of him, she then sank down beside him on the bed, causing him to watch her with both eyes open. After a brief moment to see what she'd do, Rick followed her left hand as she reached it across his chest and then promptly pinched his nipple.

"Ow," he grimaced.

Georgie chuckled and bit her bottom lip. "There, I did something. Now get on top of me already."

Smacking his own lips this time, Rick shook his head and slowly sat up. Watching her lay back upon the mattress, with her ginger locks splayed out around her head, Rick smiled and just enjoyed how beautiful she was, especially in that very moment; naked and inviting. Thinking on that alone was enough to help him get back on the horse, so to speak.

"Alright," Rick muttered. "Let's get this done."

"Wow, so romantic," Georgie teased as he got up onto his knees and knelt between her legs.

"Don Juan, at your service, milady."

Georgie placed her hands on either side of her face and looked him in the eye. "What happened to my king?"

"Shh," he whispered, pressing his lips to hers and slipping his tongue in a little. "We gotta be quiet so he doesn't find us out. It'll be the tower for us both."

Smiling at this game they were playing with each other, Georgie and Rick both found it to be a welcomed way to get out of their heads for a while and not have to think about anything else but each other and how their bodies made each other feel. And, if Georgie had anything to say about it, she'd get a round three out of him. 

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, Rick and Georgie were woken by a knock at their door. Jerking his head upward, Rick blinked and looked around, trying to remember where he was for a moment. Looking toward the door, Rick then looked down at his wrist to check the time on his watch and saw it was barely seven in the morning. He wasn't sure what time he and Georgie had finally gotten to sleep but it felt like not too long ago. Calling out to whoever was on the other side of the door, which woke Georgie, he would be right there; code for "don't come in, I'm not in a position to receive company."

"Most of us are up already." It was Daryl. "Carl's out like a light still. We'll let you wake him up. Rest of us will be waiting outside."

"Yeah, okay," Rick called back from his side of the door. Looking to his left, he glanced down upon Georgie who had rolled over onto her back and was rubbing her eyes. "Morning," he greeted before casting a glance down at both their naked bodies, which were barely covered by their blanket. "If we didn't have anywhere else to be, if we didn't have to see what Ezekiel's decision is and get home, I'd wanna take the time and enjoy you some more."

Georgie smiled. "We'll make time when we get home."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Funny how I had to convince you to go more than with me last night, and now, here you are talking about doing it again. Where was this energy last night?"

Sitting up and swinging his legs off the edge of the bed, Rick stood with a stretch of his arms toward the ceiling. "For one, you didn't have to _convince_ me of anything. Two, this energy is what happens when you let me rest my eyes," he replied teasingly.

"And three?"

Rick looked over his shoulder at her. "There is no three. I just woke up. I can't formulate any more thoughts right now."

Bending down he began to pick up their clothes; holding onto his and handing hers over so they could get dressed. Once they were both fully clothed again, Rick watched Georgie run her fingers through her hair in the absence of a brush while he pulled his utility belt on. As they left the room, Rick placed a hand upon her elbow and leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth before they headed down the hall to the room he remembered Carl being shown to.

With a gentle knock, Rick leaned his head against the door. "Carl, it's time to get moving."

After a moment, he knocked again and repeated the same words.

_"I need help with my bandage,"_ came the teen's voice from inside the room.

With a smirk, Rick turned the handle to the door and pushed it open. He and Georgie found Carl sitting on the twin bed he'd slept on; his hat beside him while he fumbled with trying to get his bandage to stay wrapped around his head, but it kept slipping down his face. It wasn't easy to do by himself and with no mirror in the room to see what he was doing.

Rick stepped inside and pushed his old hat away to sit down next to his son. Georgie just stood there; leaning against the door frame, watching as Rick undid the bandaging and then began to wrap it a little tighter around his son's head, but not too tight as to make it uncomfortable. He kept it all in place with the small metal bandage clip and then reached for the hat, which he handed to his son to put back on.

"Sleep well?" Rick asked.

Carl nodded. "Yeah. It was nice to sleep on an actual bed again since the Saviors took our mattresses."

"Better for my back, too." Rick smirked and stood up.

Without another word, Rick led both Georgie and Carl out of the building and found the others standing around just outside the main door. Richard was also present already, greeting the tardy trio with nods as they arrived.

"Alright, you're all awake," he muttered, and taking the time to hand Rick and Carl their guns back. "Ezekiel is waiting with his decree."

Rick nodded. "Okay then." With a gesture, he let Richard lead the way and the group quickly began to follow.

The sun was still generally low in the sky but life within the Kingdom was already abuzz. Kingdom soldiers were jogging past in a group, children were practicing archery, and residents were already tending to the communal gardens.

When the group approached an expectant King Ezekiel, he was standing with his back to them. "This is life here. Every day. But it came at a cost," he remarked, before turning around to face them while holding his staff. Slowly he walked forward. "And I wanted more of this. I wanted to expand. To create more places like this. Men and women lost their limbs." He looked directly at Rick. "Children lost their parents, because I sent them into battle against the wasted when I did not need to."

Rick stepped forward, meeting the King halfway. "This is different."

"It isn't."

"It is," Rick nodded. "The dead don't _rule_ us. The world doesn't look like this outside your walls. People don't have it as good. Some people don't have it good at all."

"I have to worry about _my_ people."

Rick looked away in disbelief. This was what he had dreaded happening, even though he had mentally prepared himself for its likelihood; of the Kingdom not standing with Alexandria and the Hilltop.

"You call yourself a damn King," Daryl grumbled. "You sure as hell don't act like one."

King Ezekiel stalked forward to him. "All of this…came at a cost. It was lives, arms, legs." He pointed in the direction of those practicing their archery. A young man missing an arm but wearing a prosthetic was guiding students and a young woman missing a leg was sitting upon a stool while instructing a young girl beside her. The King turned and walked back over to Rick. "The peace we have with the Saviors is uneasy, but it is peace. I have to hold on to it. I have to try."

Rick turned, reeling in his anger remarkably well as he turned and shared a mutually aggravated look with Richard while King Ezekiel continued to speak, although to Rick's group as a whole.

"Although the Kingdom cannot grant you the aid you desire, the King is sympathetic to your plight. I offer our friend Daryl asylum for as long as he requires it. He will be safe here. The Saviors do not set foot inside our walls."

"How long do you think that's gonna last?" Daryl questioned bitterly before storming away.

Rick followed after and, just like that, each person did the same.

There was no point in staying any longer. They had their answer, and it wasn't the one they wanted or needed.

The group made their way to the main gate, from where they'd come in the day before; passing by life going on as usual for the Kingdomers around them.

"You can change his mind, but you won't," Rick remarked, looking at Morgan.

"Then you can stay. We can talk."

Georgie's own anger began to bubble beneath the surface. She just couldn't see the allure in the friendship Rick still chose to maintain with the man. Morgan just couldn't understand how the world worked. Even after hearing about what was done recently to all the friends they'd lost, especially the brutal ends Glenn and Abraham received, he still couldn't face facts. She wanted to scratch his eyes out, truly she did. At the very least, cuss him out. But, like Rick, she reeled it in and gave him serious stank eye instead.

"How many people do we have? To fight?" Richard asked. "I'll go with you."

Georgie was starting to really like this guy. She'd much rather trade him for Morgan.

"We don't even have enough to take on _one_ outpost face-to-face yet," Rick replied.

"So the Kingdom has to get involved, or the Saviors will always be in charge," Richard deduced. "It isn't about soldiers. We're making them stronger. The more _food_ we give them, the more _arms_, the more _everything_, every _day_ any of us give them something, they become harder and harder to beat."

"All right, open it up. We're gone," Daryl announced to the guards on the gate.

The metal doors creaked and opened up and the group filed out. When Georgie realized Rick wasn't behind her anymore, she slowed down and looked back to see Rick talking to Daryl. When he finally began to head out, Daryl remained on the other side of the wall, just staring back. Georgie turned around and continued walking, unaware if Rick looked back or waved goodbye or anything like that. Soon enough, though, he had caught up to her and was at her side.

"Daryl staying?" she asked.

"I told him to. Rosita was right yesterday when she said he was a moving target the longer he's out here," Rick replied, his voice low. "If the Saviors can't go inside the Kingdom, they can't look for Daryl inside. He'll be safe there. We'll be back for him soon enough, when we can. He won't be alone."

"I'd hardly consider Morgan to be great company," Georgie muttered, no longer bothering to hide her disdain with the other man not that they were separated from him again. "He said he killed a man trying to kill Carol. That's great, I'm glad he did. But he's clearly back to his 'all life is precious' bullshit ways. His complacency is gonna get us killed if he doesn't find his balls and step the fuck up."

Rick shrugged. After a few moments, he looked at Georgie's profile and smirked faintly. "Have I ever told you how much I admire that ginger fire of yours?"

"Save the sweet talk for the bedroom, Grimes." With a smile, Georgie looked back at him.

Rick simply smiled back and responded by placing a hand gently upon her elbow as they approached their Chevy Suburban with the others. 

* * *

_"For anyone out there who loved the obese bastard as much as I did, I just want to say a few words. Fat Joey was not the most _badass_ sonofabitch, but he was _loyal_. He had a great sense of humor. In fact, we were just joking about oral sex with Lucille the other day. Things will _not_ be the same now that he's dead. Without Fat Joey, Skinny Joey is just…Joey. So it's a _goddamn_ tragedy. So, let's have a moment of silence."_

Negan's voice faded over the Jesus handheld radio as the Chevy Suburban approached a large roadblock on the abandoned highway they were traveling on. And it wasn't just any roadblock; it was too perfectly staged. These weren't vehicles that had been randomly left behind. They were parked, side by side, about three rows deep and all facing the same direction.

As Rick brought their vehicle to a stop, the brakes squealed.

"Someone's trying to block the way. Gotta be the Saviors," Jesus presumed.

"Look," Carl spoke up, gesturing out the right side of the vehicle at a large building in the distance that could be easily seen above the tree tops. "I think that's their base over there."

"Yeah, that's it," Jesus confirmed. "Must be trying to make it hard to get to them."

Rick sighed slightly, considering their only option. "We gotta keep going. We'll move 'em, and then we'll move 'em back. They don't need to know we were here."

Without another word, Rick turned the ignition off and everyone began to pile out of the vehicle. Slowly, but surely, they began to arduous process of moving the abandoned cars. Those without keys inside were pushed with the vehicle behind it, with someone steering and then putting on the brake to keep from crashing loudly into the side rails. They were trying to be as quiet and as discreet as they could.

"Rick," Michonne called out, holding a pair of binoculars out to him. "Come take a look at this."

Rick walked over and took the binoculars, holding them up to his eyes to see whatever it was Michonne was referring to. The others began to join the pair, curious to know what was up. What it was, specifically, was a tripwire rigged across the road. When they all made their way over to it, they could carefully inspect how a steel cable was stretched between two cars on opposite sides of the road, explosives carefully strung along the cable.

"What's all this for?" Georgie wondered.

"Wait," Carl muttered. "When I was hiding in the back of the truck, I heard a couple of them talking about this. This is for a herd."

"That's why it's a steel cable," Rosita remarked. "It's not just for one walker. It's for a lot."

"We need these explosives." Sasha insisted.

"Yeah," Rick agreed with a uneasy nod. "But we have to figure out how to disarm it first."

With little hesitation, Rosita crouched down to a grate in the grass and very slowly and carefully lifted it up to revealing a bunch of plastic explosives and wiring.

"Uh…okay," Tara muttered nervously as she took a few steps backward.

"Backing up is not gonna make a difference if this thing goes off," Rosita practically growled.

_"We got ourselves a red situation,"_ Negan's voice once more came across Jesus' handheld radio. _"I need a search party. See if Daryl ran home like the dumb animal that he is."_

_"On it," _another voice, which sounded like Simon, spoke up. _"Be there in time for lunch."_

_"Turn that sleepy little burg upside down."_

Rick began to seethe with a mix of anger and fear.

"We gotta go. We gotta get there before them, but we need these," Michonne stated. "We need to clear a path anyway."

Rick nodded. "Yeah. Rosita?"

After a few moments, Rosita pulled a black device out of the box and held it up. "First part's done."

"What now?" Georgie asked.

Rosita stood up and gestured along the cable wire. "We gotta unwrap the secondary explosives—the dynamite, the RPGs. Make sure these casings are _not_ messed up, and _do not_ mess them up, either. This thing could still blow."

"You all heard her," Rick announced. "Let's go."

And like that, they all went to their own explosives, removed the knives they had on them and began the precarious task of dismantling the trip wire. They had to be quick, but they couldn't rush either. One false move and it could literally blow up in their faces.

"You can load the explosives into the trunk as long as they're in good shape," Rosita dictated to the group. "No dents, no tears. They're not live. They still need to be triggered to be set off."

"Dad. Look."

Rick looked firstly at Carl and then followed behind him to where his son was pointing. Standing up, Rick looked up the road at the first trickling of the herd beginning to approach. "Okay. There they are. But they're far." Crouching back down to resume dismantling of the next set of explosives, Rick assured the group. "We still have time."

"You sure?" Sasha questioned.

"We need these. And we need to get the cars back in front of the on-ramp."

"They'll know we took their explosives, so does it matter?" Jesus wondered.

"We want that herd to stay on the highway."

Tara seemed confused. "Why?"

"We may need it."

"Okay. Tara, Georgie, Carl, c'mon," Rosita called out.

The foursome closed the trunk to the Chevy Suburban. Tara jumped into the driver's seat and the other two climbed in after her. The engine started and off down the road it went, tires squealing, before coming to a stop at the on-ramp. Rosita jumped out first and began to run for the first available car. Climbing in the others helped push the car backward into position while she steered. In the meantime, the others continued to remove the last few explosives from the trip wire. All the while, the herd was getting nearer.

Just as the foursome on the on-ramp had finished up, they noticed the walker herd was right on them.

"Damn it!" Carl grumbled.

"We'll figure it out!" Rosita called out.

"Get in the car!" Georgie bellowed.

She gave Carl a slight shove forward; him being her first priority at the moment. Thankful they'd left the Suburban's doors open, it was easy to usher the teen inside of the vehicle and then quickly climb in after him as Rosita and Tara did the same. While Carl climbed over the back of the middle row to sit upon the back row to make sure the explosives and RPGs were still intact, the women began rolling the windows up as the walkers began to clamber at the vehicle, growling and dragging their decaying hands along the windows.

Once they were safely inside, but almost completely surrounded, Georgie turned around in her seat to look toward the direction of where they'd left Rick and the others, but couldn't see them.

"Do you see your father?" Georgie asked of the teen.

"No," Carl shook his head.

Moments later, the sounds of engines revving and car horns blaring began to draw the attentions of the walkers and they began to move away from the Suburban to follow where the noises were coming from. When the numbers began to thin around them Georgie leaned across the middle seat and looked out the window to see Rick and Michonne speeding up the road on opposite side of the grassy median in the two cars that the explosives had been attached to. There was no hesitation on either's part as they used the dismantled trip wire to act as a sort of clothesline and literally cut the herd in half.

"Well, that's damn effective," Georgie muttered.

Tara chuckled. "Totally badass."

When both cars reached the on-ramp, Rick and Michonne jumped out of their respective cars, with Michonne having to make more of a run for it since she was in the car furthest away. It began to look like they were getting surrounded and they would have no way out, and it put everyone inside the Suburban on the edge of their seat with worry.

"I wish this vehicle had a sunroof," Georgie grumbled.

"Why?" Carl asked.

"I could stand up through it and take out a few walkers, help your dad and Michonne."

"You would just draw the walkers back to us," Rosita remarked.

"They're already surrounding us anyway," Georgie retorted. "At least it would thin the numbers a little."

After losing sight of Rick and Michonne in the throngs of undead, suddenly Michonne appeared. She slipped around the back of the Suburban where the number of walkers seemed less and whipped the back passenger door open and practically threw herself inside. Rick appeared a moment or two later, trying to shove walkers off him.

"Carl, give me your gun," Georgie ordered.

Without hesitation, Carl handed his weapon over. When Rick got nearer to the Suburban, Georgie shoved the door on her side open and leaned out. She aimed the gun and fired two shots into two walkers too close to the door that would've prevented Rick getting to it. With her free hand, she held it out to Rick. When he was close enough, she grabbed his arm and helped yank him inside as he practically toppled onto her before closing the door behind him. The door wasn't even shut all the way when Tara shoved the gas pedal down and floored it.

As the Suburban sped away, Georgie put the safety onto the gun and handed back over the middle seat to Carl before pulling Rick against her. He leaned into her and then looked over the seat, out the back window of the vehicle, in the direction of the rapidly decreasing view of the herd they'd left behind. After a few moments, an explosion was set off, followed by a mushroom-style cloud of fire set among a plume a black smoke.

Rick let out a shaky sigh and turned to press his head against Georgie's while Michonne, on the other side of Georgie, began to chuckle with relief.

"Yeah, I didn't like the look of that shit at all," Rosita remarked.

"I pushed it, I pushed it," Rick panted, trying to catch his breath, the same as Michonne.

Georgie nodded and placed her hands upon either side of his sweaty face. "I know. You did, and you're here. We're all here. We made it," she assured; her voice barely above a whisper. "We can all make it. We _can_."

Rick began to calm down, looking her in the eye and finding comfort in how she held onto his face and rubbed circles upon his temples.

Leaning in closer to him, Georgie brought her lips to his and left a lingering kiss there before moving them to his ear to whisper. "Ride or die, remember?"

Rick smirked and nodded; turning his face to meet hers again for another kiss. "Ride or die," he repeated. 


	44. We Take, We Don't Bother

**Author's Note: So, it's only been four months, but here's the update for this story. We can blame the delay in my wanting to finish my other story, going on vacation, getting injured, moving and life. Yay. So, enjoy and, as always, please _R&amp;R!_**

_**xoxo **_—_**Holly**_

* * *

_"A man's worth is no greater than his ambitions." _— Marcus Aurelius 

* * *

Before they got too close to Alexandria, the group parked a little ways away and walked the rest of the way up to the front gate. Those on watch saw them coming and rolled the gate open which allowed them to greeted by an anxious Tobin who approached Rick first thing.

"Lose the car?"

"Uh, it's somewhere safe," Rick replied, continuing forward without the slightest hiccup in his step.

"You didn't find anything."

"No. Listen, we need to get everyone ready. The—"

Before Rick could finish that thought, the rumbling of approaching vehicles almost felt like it had come from out of nowhere, causing everyone to turn back around toward the gate, which hadn't yet been closed, to find that the Saviors had arrived, only slightly sooner than they had been anticipating. Pausing in their tracks, they just stood there and watched as the Saviors rolled right into Alexandria without hesitation, but taking a few steps back to give the cavalcade a wide enough berth. Once all vehicles had come to a complete stop and engines had been killed, Rick looked briefly at his people and then gestured for the gates to be closed as he and the group that had returned with him, plus Tobin, began to walk forward toward the Saviors climbing out of their vehicles.

Simon, Negan's right hand man, was front and center, approaching with his arms out wide and a big smile as if they were all good friends. "Rick! Hello. And…hello again."

"We thought it'd be longer," Rick spoke, playing innocent to why the Saviors had shown up.

"Do you think we're here for a tribute?" Simon asked, stepping up to Rick. "Do you?"

"Is there another reason?"

"There is. We're here for Daryl."

Rick frowned. "Negan _took_ Daryl."

"Oh, but," Simon winced, bending briefly at the knees and pointing at Carl, "then your son showed up, Daryl went missing—might those two things be connected?"

"They're not," Rick insisted. "We didn't know he was gone till right now."

Simon continued to smile like he was having a grand old time, and he probably was. "Then this should be easy."

As Georgie narrowed her eyes, leaning more on her left leg, which she was doing a lot of since taking that ricocheted bullet to her right leg nearly a week ago, she determined that all Saviors probably got off on these moments. "Sick fucks" were the exact words that came to mind for her.

"Now, everyone find a buddy," Simon announced to the Alexandrians standing before him. "Gonna have to follow us around. If he's here, we _really_ need you all to see him die.

As Simon began to walk away, he paused in front of Carl and flicked his hat and then continued on, with Rick sighing heavily and following after him. Each Alexandrian began wandering off after a different handful of Saviors, with Georgie choosing to go off after those heading toward where Judith was, for her own peace of mind and Rick's, so she could make sure the little one was unaffected rather than what further damage to property and belongings was gonna happen. After all, material objects could always be replaced.

Comforted in the knowledge that Judith seemed unfazed by anything going on, Georgie gave her a kiss on the head and left her once again with her current babysitter before scooting across the road where the rest of her group she had arrived home with was now gathering on the road behind the townhouses. There Simon began to lead the way to one of the open garage bays where the pantry was located and whistled at the sight of how empty all the place was.

Simon wasn't the only one surprised by the metal shelves being so bare; Rick and the others, too.

It hadn't been like this when they'd left for Hilltop the day before.

Simon whistled and cast a look over his shoulder at Rick as they all followed him into the pantry. "Wow, these are some bare shelving units. You guys have a barbecue or something and not invite us? _Seriously_, this is sad. Hope you're not trying to hide stuff from us, 'cause that generally doesn't go over very well." Simon turned and looked around at each face, chuckling a little.

"We have a lot of people," Aaron explained as Simon began to focus his attention on him. "It's…getting harder to find stuff and our focus lately has been on finding things that Negan might want. We're still adjusting to the new system."

"We were gonna scavenge more today," Rick spoke, shifting Simon's focus away from Aaron. "If you just wait, we'll…bring something back. We'll find more."

"Aww," Simon chuckled, leaning his arms upon the shelf separating him from Rick. "Relax! I'm not here for a pickup. Good thing. But that day is coming, so you best do whatever you need to. _Dig deep_. Go the extra mile." Simon slammed his hands on the shelf, causing a very cacophonous echo throughout the pantry. "Take some _risks_!"

"We will," Georgie assured, standing there beside Michonne with her hands on her hips as Simon turned to look at her.

"Well, _we_ will appreciate that," Simon remarked, walking right out of the pantry rather abruptly.

As the other Saviors waiting outside the pantry followed, so too did Rick and the rest of his group as they made their way along the main road that curved along the pond and headed back toward the main gate, which had already been reopened for the Saviors' departure.

"Thank you for the cooperation, Rick," Simon expressed. "My apologies for leaving the place a bit of a mess, but we got a _litany of other shit_ _to attend to_!" Several of the trucks had already started back up and were making their way out of the gate. "So do you, I guess." Turning around, he pointed at Rick. "Tick-tock. Chop-chop." Turning away, he opened up the passenger door to the truck that pulled up beside him and climbed on up before hanging out the window. "Oh! And, Rick—if Daryl _does_ turn up here…two _days_ from now, two _months_ from now…hell, two _years_ from now…just know there's no statute of limitations on this." Simon grinned. "Keep that hatchet handy. You're gonna need it if he turns up with you people. And it won't turn out the way it did for your boy." His grin fading into a sneer, Simon turned back into his seat but kept his eye glued to Rick as he slapped the outside of his door twice; signaling for the driver to drive on.

As the rest of the vehicles drove off out of Alexandria, Tobin began pulling the gate closed while Rick walked forward a few paces to watch the tail end of the Saviors disappeared up the road. Flexing his right hand in and out of being a fist, Rick turned quickly around and glared at Aaron and Eric.

"What happened to the pantry?" he demanded.

"We don't know," Aaron replied. "And we need to talk about Gabriel."

"Where is he?"

"He was on watch last night when you all went to scavenge," Tobin informed, joining the others. "I was supposed to take over for him this morning. He wasn't at his post."

"Pantry was cleared out and a car was gone," Aaron continued, squinting slightly.

"No one's seen him since," Eric added.

"That sonofabitch," Rosita scoffed, shifting her weight as she at Rick with her arms folded and looking ready to rumble. "He stole our shit and ran."

"That's…what it looks like," Tobin remarked.

Michonne shook her head. "Well, I don't want to believe it."

"I don't believe it," Rick mirrored. "That's not Gabriel. He wouldn't do that to us."

"I thought he changed, too, but it can't be anything else," Rosita carried on.

With a sigh, Georgie also mirrored Michonne, primarily in shaking her head. "There can be any _multitude_ of reasons of what it can actually be." She glanced from Rosita to Rick. "If he was going to just take off, for one, he wouldn't take _everything_. He'd take enough for himself and go. He wouldn't take food from the mouths of children, from Judith. He's protected her and kept her safe for us more times than I can count over the last couple of months when we needed him to. He wouldn't just turn his back now."

"No, he wouldn't," Rick agreed, stalking away angrily.

Sharing a look with Michonne, Georgie silently gestured for her to come with her as she followed after Rick. He seemed to be making his way back toward the pantry and that assumption would be right. As they followed him inside, the others seemed to be following as well but at a slightly further distance. Rick, however, didn't remain in the garage and instead headed up the stairs, up to the main floor of the townhouse where their armory had been before the Saviors cleared it out. All that was left now was empty gun racks and an empty closet. Not even a stray bullet casing could be found. The only thing of interest now was a bible laying open and face down on the floor in the center of the room and Rick had certainly took interest in it as he crouched down and picked it up.

"I can't believe he would just take our shit and go," Georgie maintained, looking over at Michonne. "I mean, that's not who he is. Not anymore."

"Well, he saw Olivia and Spencer die right in front of him."

Georgie frowned. "It's not like they're the first. He was here when the Wolves attacked. He's seen brutality at the hand of the living before and didn't turn tail then, so why do it now?"

Rick got to his feet and held the bible up to both women. "Why wouldn't he have taken this with him? Why would he leave it on the floor?" he wondered as Aaron, Rosita and Eric appeared.

"There weren't tracks out there before," Aaron announced. "We didn't find anything now. Maybe Daryl could've picked something up."

As Rick set the bible down on one of the tables against the wall, he picked up a composition notebook and began flipping through it while Rosita simply rolled her eyes.

"He left," she remarked. "He didn't leave a note. He obviously doesn't want to be found."

"Yes he does," Rick insisted upon flipping to the last page of the notebook and then holding it up for the others to see.

In capital letters, all that was written was "BOAT."

"How would he know we were out there?" Aaron asked.

Rick shook his head and looked over his shoulder at the other man. "I don't know." 

* * *

Deciding they needed to go after Gabriel and find out what happened, everyone took a bit of time to regroup in their homes; to see what new mess the Saviors had left them with and then simply prepare for their next mission away from Alexandria. Rick wouldn't allow Carl to come with, insisting the boy was to stay home and take care of his sister. The moment Carl seemed like he was going to argue against the decision, Georgie gave him a knowing look that said he should stand down and Rick's stern gaze was the period at the end of that expression's sentence. Having snuck away and brought Negan and the Saviors back to their community and into their homes once already, Rick wasn't about to let his son fuck off and recklessly take matters into his hands again. Carl seemed to accept his place and, to show he would stay put and behave, offered to put the house back into order.

Leaving Alexandria the same way they returned to it, the small group made their way up the road outside the community and reached where they'd left the vehicle they'd driven home in, which was hidden from view amongst some trees. Piling in, Rick climbed into the driver's seat and Aaron beside him while the others found a place in the middle and back rows.

After driving for nearly an hour, Rick parked the vehicle on the side of an overgrown road in the middle of seemingly nowhere. When both men in the front seat climbed out, the others followed suit and then followed as Rick and Aaron began to lead the way into the trees and through the woods. Soon enough, they approached a broken, wooden gate and took turns climbing over.

Walking slowly and quietly, they walked near the water's edge of a large pond where there was a stranded fishing boat at the center, surrounded by submerged walkers. Looking around for clues of any kind, Rick crouched down when he seemed to have spotted something that piqued his curiosity.

Looking over his shoulder at Georgie, he called to her. "Psst."

Coming up behind him with her hunting knife held firmly in here hand, Georgie followed his gaze to the ground, which was covered primarily in dried out, brown pine needles, but also—and more importantly—fresh footprints.

With a nod at him, Georgie let Rick stand back up and lead her and the rest of the group in the direction the footprints were headed; which eventually brought them to an overgrown, urban parking lot. There was even an abandoned crane with a rusted wrecking ball, which hung from a rusted chain, which was covered completely in vines.

As they made their way around, single file, and as carefully and as quietly as possible, Rick held his Colt up with one hand and pointed out where the footprints continued with the other hand. As the tall grass they were walking through hindered any further clues, Rick looked back at Rosita and Tara; whistling at them and gesturing for them to spread out a bit more. Each kept their guard up and their hands readily on or near their weapons as they passed through the tall grass and more onto some cracked, grey pavement.

A sudden thud sound caused Rick to spin around.

About half a yard away was a hooded person beside an abandoned tractor trailer, aiming a shotgun at the group. Three trailer widths away stood two other people—a man and woman—also aiming shotguns. As Rick and the others looked around them, large numbers of armed people were suddenly coming out of the woodwork and advancing on them; pointing guns and other melee weapons right in their faces.

While the others tensed at being completely surrounded, with Georgie clambering to grab onto Rick's hand for any sense of security, Rick simply looked upon this new situation with a smile. 

* * *

Almost immediately, the group had been forced to hand over their weapons and was silently urged forward to some undisclosed direction. They were quite outnumbered and left with little option but to follow the crowd. As their own group stayed close together, they each took in the different aspects of this new community and how strange it felt and looked. Every last one of these people was dressed more or less the same in black or grey clothing, showing little skin and wearing expressionless faces. The soot on their clothes seemed to fit in well with the fact that they apparently lived and thrived within a junkyard. The mounds were rather large and created a sort of walled barrier with no other obvious entry point aside from the doors of a shipping container Rick's group was being led to.

As the doors were pulled open, the majority of these Garbage Pail Kids, as Georgie was calling them in her head, went first through the entrance and when Rick's group followed, they could see for themselves that the tunnel under the garbage they were passing through was in fact nothing more than an entire shipping container that had been buried underneath the garbage but was strong enough to withstand all that weight and provide easy access between the inside and outside of their domain of debris.

The doors at the opposite end of the container were opened, letting more light inside and allowed Rick's group their first glimpse of the junkyard while the GPK—the Garbage Pail Kids—began to wander around in what initially appeared to be at random. Soon it became obvious that they were taking specific places around Rick's group. They were surrounding them in two circles; an inner layer and an outer layer.

The entire time, Rick didn't seem too bothered by any of this. If anything, he appeared rather amused. When Michonne glanced at him with a mix of anxiety and solemnity, he just gave her a nod of reassurance. Georgie hadn't formed an opinion of all this yet; simply looking around with mild curiousness but with some anxiety as well merely because of the whole "unknown" aspect to this.

Who were these people?

Could they be trusted?

Why did they live in a damn junkyard and how did they manage to not smell like one?

As Rick slipped his pinky finger around Georgie's pinky finger, a voice spoke up.

"Are you a collective or does one lead?"

A woman with an odd haircut stepped forward from behind the outermost circle and began to approach, rather casually.

Another woman, standing directly behind Rick, shoved him forward. "This," she all but sneered, as if Rick had just offended all of her ancestors.

This first woman, the one with the odd haircut, came forward and approached Rick; eyeing him with interest.

"Hi," he greeted. "I'm Rick."

She smirked. "We own your lives. Want to buy them back?" Off Rick's initial silence she asked, "Have anything?"

"Well, you have one of my people. Gabriel," Rick responded. "I wanna see him first. Then we can talk."

The woman smirked and nodded over Rick's shoulder at the other woman who had shoved him. As the latter walked off with an older man in tow, Rick and his group began to look around for a moment as they waited patiently. Then, Gabriel appeared, missing his usual black dress shirt and priest's collar, to reveal the white beater he apparently wore underneath. It was strange to see him so underdressed, and the poor fella looked distraught as he was being led forward by the angry woman and the older man. Gabriel looked nervous but seemed to take considerable comfort in the smile Rick gave him and the fact that the others had come to find him.

Bad Haircut looked from Gabriel and then back to Rick. "The boat things you took got taken. Saw them, so we took the rest." She tilted her head to the side and smirked slightly. "And we took him."

Rick just stared back at her. "Well, then you know we have nothing to buy back our lives with. That's what you'll have soon—_nothing_. Because me and my people already belong to that group who took those supplies from the boat. They're called the Saviors. _They_ own our lives. And if you kill us, you'll be taking something from _them_. And they _will_ come looking." After a pause, he continued, "You only have two options when it comes to the Saviors—either they kill you or they own you. But there is a way out." Taking half a step forward, Rick leaned in a bit toward Bad Haircut. "Join us. Join us in fighting them."

She had heard what he said, seemed to find it interesting and, as if she was considering, she then smirked and looked at Rick as if he were an idiot child. "No." Holding a hand up, she signaled for Angry and Oldie to take Gabriel away.

As a few of the GPK began to advance on Rick's group, Rosita immediately lashed out when one of them grabbed her shoulder; head-butting them with the back of her head and then turned to clothesline another.

"Rosita, don't!" Aaron shouted, just as he turned around and was met with what looked to be cue stick to the face; knocking him down.

Tara kicked at one of the GPK coming for her and grabbed their forearms to push them away from her, while Michonne and Georgie stood back to back and pushed away at the people trying to grab them.

Rick broke free of a grasp he was in and shoved his own offender away. "Everybody, stop! Wait!" he shouted, holding his hands out.

Gabriel slipped back toward the foray and swiped a knife off Oldie, while the others continued to fight off the GPK that were trying to contain them. "Let us go or I _will_ kill her!" Gabriel demanded loudly, causing everyone to turn their attention to him and find him standing behind Angry with the knife to her throat.

Bad Haircut simply looked at Gabriel like he was a pet trying to climb up on the furniture. "Away from Tamiel now."

So, Angry was named Tamiel.

"The Saviors, they—they have other places, other communities," Gabriel began to bargain. "They have things—food, weapons, vehicles, fuel. Whatever you want, the Saviors have it."

Slowly, Bad Haircut seemed like she was smirking again. Raising her hand back; she opened up her balled up fist and immediately her people backed off and lowered their weapons. Rick's group merely looked around, slightly confused by how easily the physical confrontation just ceased.

"Away from Tamiel," Bad Haircut repeated to Gabriel, making a shooing motion at him with her hand.

When Gabriel looked around and hesitated, Rick gave him a nod that said it was okay to back off. He nodded back and released Tamiel; stepping forward with hands raised in good faith and then dropped the knife down upon the ground.

"Your words now."

Gabriel looked around again; finding his inner strength. "If you join us, and we beat them together, you can have much of what's theirs." He grinned, looking almost invigorated upon the metaphorical soap box Bad Haircut had given him. "Fight with us, you'll be rewarded…_more_ than you can imagine."

"Want something _now_."

"Rick," Gabriel nodded at the blue-eyed leader, "can do anything. This group?" Gabriel pointed to his people with pride. "They _found_ me—_here_, so far from our home. What do you need? Just _tell_ us—we'll _get_ it for you. We'll _show_ you what we can do. _Now_."

Considering his words, Bad Haircut twirled her hand and looked behind Gabriel. "Tamiel, Brion. Show Rick Up-Up-Up."

As Tamiel and Brion—who was Oldie—began to approach Rick, Georgie got anxious and grabbed for his hand; completely missing how Bad Haircut had _not_ missed Georgie's gesture.

"No," Georgie muttered, knitting her brow in concern.

Rick, however, looked her with a reassuring smile and gave her hand a tight squeeze. "It's okay."

Georgie wasn't convinced. Turning to Bad Haircut, she stepped forward and looked the woman in the eye as Rick began to step away. "Where he goes, I go," she informed; her lips pursing and the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly in a subtle sneer.

Bad Haircut, who was somewhat taller, literally looked down her nose at the ginger before her and studied the way Georgie's facial expression and body language hardened. In what could've been a display of two alpha females pushing each other's dominance on the other, Bad Haircut simply smirked and looked over at Rick, who had paused along with Tamiel and Brion; awaiting Bad Haircut's decision.

"You go to Up-Up-Up," Bad Haircut announced after a moment of internal deliberation.

With a polite but stern nod of her head, Georgie stepped away from Bad Haircut and joined Rick at his side.

"You nuts?" he whispered to her as they walked side by side together behind Tamiel and Brion. "You don't know where they're taking me."

"Neither do you," she whispered back; not oblivious to the fact that Bad Haircut was bringing up the rear of their little procession away from the others. Tapping her fingers against his wrist, she added, "Ride or die."

With a shake of his head, Rick couldn't deny how much he appreciated how stalwart she was; how she wouldn't back down and how she would fight for him—for _them_.

As the five of them rounded a narrow passageway around a continuous mound of junk, Rick and Georgie soon found themselves at the base of what looked to be a manmade stairway leading up on part of the trash heaps. Bad Haircut took it upon herself to go first and lead the way up, followed by her loyal Tamiel and Brion. Rick and Georgie looked at each other, shrugged and then ascended the stairway behind the other three, and rather warily at that. It felt a little perplexing that important chunks of junk from the garbage mound weren't simply falling away from the combined weight of everyone headed to the top. It must've been just that well compacted.

At the very top, Rick and Georgie looked around and, despite the eye sore that was such a massive junkyard surrounding them, there was no doubting it was an amazing view. They could see for miles in every direction. Bad Haircut nodded ahead of them, down below to where they had entered this odd community, to view their friends looking curiously up at them.

Looking down at their friends, at each other and then at Bad Haircut, neither Rick nor Georgie knowing if they should say something to break the awkward silence.

"All of us, here since the change," Bad Haircut informed. "We take. We don't bother. Things grow harder. We open cans, sometimes inside's rotten. Time's passed. Things are changing again. So maybe _we_ change. Maybe." Turning to away from all her domain, she looked upon Rick who stood at her immediate left. "Need to know you're real with this—that you're worth it."

Before Rick could respond, she grabbed his arm and shoved him off the heap, sending him tumbling down into a pit directly below him.

As he cried out in surprise, Georgie did the same as she dropped to her knees and followed him with worried eyes. "Rick!" After a moment to comprehend what had just happened, she got back up to her feet and got right in Bad Haircut's face. "What the _fuck_ was that for?! Why did you _do_ that?!" she shouted.

Michonne, just as alarmed as the others from below, and possibly unable to hear what Georgie had just demanded to know, yelled up to them, "What did you do?!"

Georgie looked down to see her friends running up to the other side of the heap and that was when she lost sight of them from where she stood. However, at least she had a rather decent view of Rick. When he didn't move right away, she got nervous, but the walls of the pit allowed any sound from down below to echo and travel upward. Hearing Rick grunting and panting from the aftermath of his fall and seeing him slowly begin to move around was an immediate weight off her shoulders.

"He lives," Bad Haircut muttered nonchalantly. "Now he proves he's worth it."

Glaring at the taller woman, Georgie crouched down onto her hands and knees. "He's okay!" she shouted to their friends. Then, as if to be sure, she asked him outright. "Rick! Are you okay?"

Craning his head upward, he spotted her ginger hair before anything else. The sun reflecting off her white shirt made it hard to focus on anything else about her from where he was. Holding a hand up toward her, he nodded. "I'm okay."

"Rick!" Michonne's voice echoed from somewhere closer to him and he moved toward a pipe within the heap's wall.

Looking through it, he saw Michonne peering back at him from the other end and he nodded at her. "I'm alright," he assured for a second time.

While he began to take in his surroundings, Georgie tried to determine if there was a way out for him when she noticed movement from behind him. Something lumpy and spikey began to approach and it set every one of her nerves alight.

"Rick—behind you!"

Rick turned and his eyes went wide at the sight of a walker with sharpened metal spikes sticking out of its body and a metal helmet with even more sharpened metal spikes welded to its head; virtually preventing anyway for it to be killed. After all, if the head was protected, the brain couldn't be destroyed.

Scared, Rick backed away; stepping on something round in the process. When he glanced down to see what it was, he discovered it was a human skull still tacky and caked with the remnants of blood and skin. It did nothing to remove the fear he felt as he stumbled and fell backward into the pit's wall while the spiked walker growled as it approached him.

"Stop this!" Georgie pleaded with Bad Haircut, all the while not averting her eyes from Rick and his predicament. "Put a stop to this!"

"You go where he goes, yes? If he is not worth it, then you will prove you are next." Bad Haircut smirked when Georgie looked up at her with a darkened glare. She was unfazed by the venom with which she was being looked at, so she shrugged. "You go where he goes."

Down below, Rick half crawled up another section of the pit wall and grabbed a computer keyboard. He used it as a weapon; striking it across the walker's covered head, but all that it did was send a few keys flying and crack a few good chunks off of the end of the keyboard. Losing his footing amongst the rubble underfoot, Rick slipped but was quick to jump back up to his feet. He scanned his surroundings again for another weapon—anything that would help him—but could find nothing as the walker came right up to him; leaving Rick no other option but to throw his hands up defensively, which wasn't the best move on his part.

Rick's right hand was pierced straight through by one of the smaller, narrower spikes on the helmet; causing Rick to cry out in pain and yet try to ignore it all the same in order to focus on keeping the walker away from him so its chomping teeth didn't bite down on any part of his flesh.

With a decent enough shove, Rick managed to push the walker away for a few moments and free his impaled hand. Those moments weren't long enough, though, as the walker came staggering toward him again, forcing Rick to get back up and continue to defend himself. Lifting his right leg up, Rick kicked the walker against its chest, but Rick sliced open the inseam of his pant leg and also sliced the skin of his inner thigh in the process.

Letting out a new cry of pain, Rick stumbled back into the garbage again, briefly inspecting his wound. He tried standing up and groaned at how badly it hurt. Forcing himself to bite back on that pain, he rolled around and attempted to climb up the pit wall, grabbing onto whatever he could for leverage, but began to slip. Rolling and tumbling unceremoniously down to the bottom of the pit, Rick started to crawl away until he could pick himself back up. As soon as he managed to get upright again, he stumbled into the pit wall; at a loss for how to get out of this situation.

Scanning what she could see of the pit from up above, a panicked Georgie called down to Rick, "The walls! Use them!"

Casting a glance up toward the direction of her voice, quite literally like an angel looking down from heaven to the hell he was trapped in, Rick then looked around him and began to pull at the garbage and knock pieces out of place. Quickly, junk began to rain down upon the walker as Rick dived out of the way. With the walker knocked onto its back and weighed down by the fallen debris, Rick grabbed onto some sort of material sticking out of the wall; giving it a tug and forcing even more things to bury the walker.

With the walker unable to get up, having been encumbered by garbage, Rick now had the time to look for a proper weapon and he found it in the form of broken shards of glass. Wrapping one of the largest shards with a piece of red, scrap material, Rick crouched down and began to hack away at the walker's neck until he was able to sever the head completely from its body. The walker growled and gurgled throughout as its blood splattered the ground and the base of the pit wall, and even splashed back up a little at Rick.

Having succeeded in besting the walker, Rick stood up; breathing heavily and teetering a bit as he turned around and looked up. "You believe us now?!" he bellowed. "Just tell us what you want…and we'll get it."

Tossing the shard of glass and scrap of material away, Rick continued to look up; waiting for a response.

The answer he was given was a rope that was thrown down for him to use to climb back up.

So, with a sigh, Rick grabbed onto the rope, firstly with his left hand to mentally prepare himself for how painful it was going to be to use his right hand next. And, sure enough, it was. Letting out a wounded grunt, Rick grit his teeth and barreled through it as he began putting one foot in front of the other; struggling not to let the pain interfere and cause him to lose his grip. Slipping all the way back down and having to start over was not something he was looking forward to. However, Rick was a survivor and had gotten through worse moments and, in the grander scheme of things, this was very low on that list.

Upon reaching the top of the pile, he was weakening, falling forward but managed to get back up. He was panting and grunting, but not once would he give Bad Haircut and her two lackeys the benefit of seeing him give up or ask for help.

Being offered help and accepting it was another story.

As soon as he was close enough where reaching for him wouldn't cause either of them to fall, Georgie grabbed onto Rick's wrist; mindful of his hand. Taking a moment to get his bearings on his knees, Rick responded by gripping onto her right forearm with his left hand and then allowing her to help him up to his feet. Standing up, he began to steady his breath and flashed an appreciative eye at Georgie.

"You okay?" she whispered, leaning her face toward his.

Rick just nodded and then looked over her shoulder to Bad Haircut who stepped up to the pair.

"Guns. A lot," Bad Haircut spoke, with a nod and a smile. "A lot. And then we fight your fight."

Rick nodded back and then looked down to his and Georgie's friends below. He caught Georgie off guard by smiling and chuckling to himself. She couldn't understand it, considering the injuries he'd just sustained and how Bad Haircut had basically made a dancing monkey out of him just to determine whether or not her people would join the fight against the Saviors. Georgie was fairly certain there were any multitude of other ways to come to that decision.

Turning from Rick and Georgie, Bad Haircut called over her shoulder to them, "Follow."

Without another word, she began to head down the large mountain of garbage with Tamiel and Brion directly in front of her. Looking at each other, Rick nodded Georgie and gestured for her to go ahead of him. It wasn't until they reached the bottom that any of them spoke again.

Rick and Bad Haircut just stared at each other for a while; assessing the other. For Georgie, she had more of a glaring contest going on with Tamiel.

"You know we will win?" Bad Haircut asked of Rick.

With drops of sweat falling from every damp curl hanging down around his face, Rick tilted his head slightly and exuded nothing but confidence. "_Oh_, I _know_ it."

"After, we get _half_ of what's won."

"Oh, you'll get a third. And we're taking back what you just stole from us."

Bad Haircut grinned. "_Half_."

"A third."

"Half," she repeated, rather softly.

Rick chuckled, looking down for a moment. "A third."

"A third and we keep what we stole."

After a brief glance at Georgie and an incredulous shake of his head, he gave his attention back to the woman in front of him, complete with a smile. But that smile was didn't reach his eyes, which were starting to reveal a rage within he was keeping well checked.

"Half of the jars, the ones we took," Bad Haircut continued to bargain. "One time, this time. Yes? Say yes."

After a moment of hesitation, Rick narrowed his gaze and nodded. "Yes."

"And the guns."

"_And_ the guns."

Having seemed to have reached an accord, Bad Haircut extended her right hand in the age old gesture of sealing a deal. However, as Rick extended his own right hand, which was covered in his blood, she grimaced and retracted her right hand only to extend her left instead. Doing the same, Rick shook her hand and looked her in the eye while doing so.

"Waited by the boat long time. Want something for it," she continued, still holding his hand. "So it's this. Jars and guns, guns and jars."

Rick was confused. "You _waited _for someone to get the supplies of that boat for you?"

"Long time," she confirmed with a nod while releasing his hand. "We take, we don't bother."

It took every ounce of Georgie's willpower not to comment on that damned mantra.

_You sure as hell are quite the bother_, she thought.

Knitting his brow, Rick looked off for a moment and then back at Bad Haircut with a question. "You had that thing down there for someone to _prove_ themselves?"

"No," Bad Haircut replied. "His name was Winslow."

Rick wasn't sure how to process that. He wondered if Winslow was some walker they found and fashioned with all those spikes or if maybe he had been one of them and decided he would serve some further purpose for them in death.

"What were you gonna do with Gabriel?"

"Go. Deal expires. Soon."

Deciding to end the conversation there, she turned away and began to walk off.

Watching her go, Rick sighed. "What's your _name_?" he asked.

She stopped, turned and smiled a little. "Jadis."

Turning back around, Bad Haircut—_Jadis_ continued on her way and her minions Tamiel and Brion followed right behind.

Looking over at Georgie, Rick exchanged a look of bewilderment with her and then began to limp over to her. "What the fuck was all that?" he wondered with a laugh.

Raising her eyebrows, Georgie shrugged and shook her head. "Which part? The way they talk, her hair, the fact that they had a pit monster or that they created Thunderdome with it?"

Despite his injuries, and the stress it all gave him, Rick couldn't help but find the humor in it. "It's kind of impressive, actually," he commented with a look around them.

"My high school English teacher is rolling over in his grave right now at their grammar."

Rick shrugged. "Maybe they learned English as a second language when the world ended. All that time on their hands to learn new things," he joked.

With a shake of her head, Georgie moved around him and slipped her left arm around his back so that his right arm draped over her shoulder and so that he could use her as a crutch and not have to put so much weight upon his right leg. "C'mon, gimpy. Let's get our shit and our people and get out of here before you get Tetanus."

"If I haven't gotten it already."

Snickering, Georgie smirked a little, but part of her really was worried about the possible long-term effects of his injuries. That spike going through his hand could cause nerve damage and, being right-handed, it would make firing a gun quite the task. And she was pretty serious about the Tetanus thing. Gangrene was another possibility. Those kinds of infection could lead to the loss of his hand or leg, or even his life. In this new world, they couldn't be too careful.

Though, without a doctor at Alexandria anymore, getting Rick treated would be interesting. Sure, Rosita had been trained a bit more with medical procedures by Denise before her death, but she wasn't exactly the ideal candidate for this sort of thing.

"We should stop at the Hilltop on the way home. You need your hand and leg treated by an actual doctor, and Harlan can do that for us," Georgie suggested as she led them back toward where their friends all were.

"Yeah," he agreed. "We should stop there anyway to give Jesus and Maggie an update on what we found here."

"But your health first, okay?"

Casting a side glance at her, Rick smirked and nodded. "Okay."

As the two of them rounded a curve in their path, they came upon their people, who looked back at them with a mix of relief and anticipation.

Rick smiled. "We have a deal," he announced, sounding tired and for good reason.

The others smiled back; that anticipation giving way to joy. 

* * *

A short while later, the Garbage Pail Kids were gathering the supplies taken from Alexandria that Rick and Jadis had come to agreement about taking back with them. Rick was leaning against a white car with Gabriel, talking to him, while the rest of their group watched the GPK walking past with container after container of their supplies. Michonne seemed to be acting in a sort of supervisory position, whereas Georgie found herself to be a little distracted by the metal sculptures here and there.

"Someone's trash really _is_ someone else's treasure," she quipped, causing Michonne to look over at her.

"Hmm?"

Georgie pointed out a couple of the sculptures. "Those are actually pretty cool."

Raising an eyebrow, Michonne stepped over particular sculpture of a cat. After a moment of consideration, she picked it up and walked back over to Georgie. "I'm taking this," she commented with a grin.

Georgie chuckled. "Some days you just gotta treat yourself."

Turning away from Michonne, Georgie looked over at Rick to see him placing a hand upon Gabriel's shoulder. Possibly sensing her eyes on him, Rick looked back and they shared a smile. They didn't seem too bothered by whatever heated conversation that was playing out between Aaron, Rosita and Tara, and they didn't seem too bothered by the fact that Brion and Tamiel had reappeared like a pair of harbingers of doom. They were just focused on being content with the good things that had gone right for them today.

"Guns. Soon," Tamiel announced.

"Soon. Or else," Brion mirrored, with the added bonus of an ambiguous threat.

Once the gloomy pair walked off with the handful of GPK behind them, Rick limped over to Georgie and Michonne. "I bet they're the life of any party they go to," he joked.

Michonne raised an eyebrow at him. "You're surprisingly cheery for someone who was almost crucified."

Rick shrugged. "Just another day at the office."

"It's the Tetanus. It's making him delirious," Georgie remarked, trying to make light of the situation as well while Aaron and Tara began loading the containers of supplies into the trunk of the white car.

"So, once we get you stitched up, we'll go right back out and find the guns, right?" Michonne questioned.

"That's right," Rick confirmed.

"Do you have any idea where?"

"No, but that's never stopped us before." Rick turned and gestured to Tara. "Tara, you've been out further than any of us. At least you can tell us where _not_ to look."

With a smile, Tara nodded and began to play with the bracelet around her wrist. "Yeah. Sure thing."

"Let's go already," Rosita called out impatiently.

Rick ignored her and looked down at Michonne's hands, at the metal cat sculpture and raised an eyebrow. "You really like cats, don't you?"

Michonne shrugged. "It reminds me of that cat statue I found back in Georgia. That one was so beautiful."

With a nod, he smiled. "Well, it was certainly bright."

"It was _colorful_," she clarified.

"We need to make a pit stop at the Hilltop before we head home to Alexandria," Georgie offered up. "Rick should have someone with proper experience stitch him up."

Rick tried shrugging it off. "It's just some flesh wounds."

"Rick," she admonished, grabbing his right wrist and holding his hand up. "You can see through your hand. Slap a Band-Aid on your leg if you want, but your hand is more serious than 'just some flesh wound'."

"Enough chit-chat. Let's go," Rosita urged again.

Turning and glaring at the younger woman, Georgie gritted her teeth. "_Girl_, shut up already. We're going."

Raising an eyebrow again, Rick snickered and closed the trunk. Taking a step back he threw an arm around Georgie's shoulder; pulling her in for a side hug and pressing his lips to her temple. "Alright. Let's go." 

* * *

That night, after half their group had gone straight back to Alexandria with their returned supplies and the other half took that detour to the Hilltop so Rick could seek Harland's medical attention for his hand and leg, everything seemed delightfully calm and peaceful. The air was still, but it was neither too cool nor too warm out. Everyone in the community had retreated to their homes by the time the sun had gone down, like most every night, and the only sign that people were still awake was by the lights still on inside the houses.

On the edge of his bed, in the privacy of his own room, Rick sat hunched forward in with his bedside table lamp on. He was squinting as he struggled to stitch up the ripped inseam of his right pant leg just as Georgie walked into the room and stopped at the sight of him, biting down on his thumb while in deep concentration.

With a small laugh escaping her lips, Georgie reached out and grabbed the pants away from him. "Why don't you throw these things out? You have other pairs of pants and you never wear them."

Sitting up straighter and still holding the threaded needle in his right hand, Rick frowned. "They're my good luck pants," he replied with a slight smirk.

"They are far from it. Good luck? No._ Bad_ luck? Yes or at least a solid maybe."

Rick smacked his lips. "I love these pants. I can't bring myself to toss 'em."

Georgie looked down at the pants in her hand and sighed. "Well, at least you washed them first."

"Carl did, actually."

With a roll of her eyes, Georgie shook her head. "Seriously?"

"Hey, he offered," he replied with a shrug. "Judith spilled food all down her clothes earlier and he was gonna start a load anyway."

"So, did he actually _offer_ or did you just throw your pants into the middle of a load?"

Rick hesitated to answer. "I don't have to dignify that with an answer."

Georgie chuckled. "So, I'll take that as a no." Shutting the bedroom door, she sank down on the bed beside Rick and held out her free hand to take the threaded needle from him. "If I sew these up for you, you gotta promise me to wear other pairs once in a while. I'd really like to enjoy watching you walk around in a pair of tight blue jeans."

Rick snickered. "You just wanna ogle my ass."

"So? This black pair is so old, the material is getting baggy. It gives your ass no definition."

"I didn't realize my ass needed to be defined."

Georgie turned and looked at him. "Not all the time, but sometimes," she spoke; a corner of her mouth rising in an impish, half-smile.

He sighed. "Fine. How about on Sundays? On Sundays I'll give these pants a day of rest."

"I suppose it's a start."

After a moment, Rick's eyes wandered to her hands and watched as she turned the ripped pant leg inside out and then began to stitch it up from the top of the rip down to the bottom with rather large stitching. He could tell she wasn't doing it like that for aesthetics but quick practicality. As long as it closed up the pant leg and didn't fall apart as soon as he put the pants back on, that's all that mattered; not how it looked.

"How's your hand?"

"Fine," Rick answered. "Harlan gave me good meds." Holding his bandaged hand up, he flexed and stretched his fingers while she continued to work on his pants. "I lucked out. Should heal pretty well and I won't lose function with it." Turning to look at Georgie's profile, he nudged her arm with his elbow. "Told you those were my good luck pants."

"I will burn these good luck pants in a minute."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I will if you call them your good luck pants again," she warned with a smile.

"You drive a hard bargain."

Another moment later, they both fell silent and he continued to watch her finish up his pants. Once she was done, she got up and set the needle and thread atop his dresser and then draped the pants in the chair in the corner of their room. She didn't say much of anything as she turned and looked at him; leaning against her own dresser.

"You okay?" he asked.

Chewing the inside of her bottom lip for a moment, she shrugged. "I was just thinking about earlier. When Jadis shoved you down into that pit, and you didn't move right away, I thought for a moment that your neck had been broken and I was prepared to attack her and shove her down there to her death. I was really scared for you."

"You helped me though. Helped me get through it."

"Maybe a little."

Looking toward the ground, Rick replayed his time in that pit with Winslow and grimaced. "Did she talk to you at all while I was down there? Did she say anything of importance?"

Georgie shook her head. "Just that if you failed, she would shove me down there to fight Winslow instead all because I had told her I go where you go."

"Maybe you shouldn't tell that to strangers."

"Hey, Negan still thinks I'm nothing more than your live-in nanny."

Rick smirked. "Shush now. Don't go giving me au pair fantasies."

Georgie chuckled again, but then grew serious. "Are you still up for heading out tomorrow to look for those guns?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "And I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Oh?"

"I know it went assumed that Michonne or Aaron would go out with me, but I want you to come instead."

Georgie just stared back at him; considering his suggestion. "Really?"

"Yeah. I just think, considering everything that's happened lately, that we could use this time to not just look for guns, but also for just us. It's always us and the kids and everyone else. I'd like to go on an adventure with just you for once." Rick smiled boyishly up at her. "The two of us, against the world."

With a sniff of laughter emitted from her nostrils, Georgie smiled back at him and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. Pushing off from her dresser, she sauntered over to him and stood between his legs; placing her hands upon his shoulders and continuing to smile down at him as his hands found their way to her hips. "I'll go on an adventure with you." 


End file.
